In An Instant
by LunalitSol
Summary: Jesse St. James can't help but find Carson Phillips fascinating. Too bad Carson thinks he's an ass. [The debut of Jarson, and oh is it delicious]
1. Chapter 1 In An Instant

**In An Instant**

Chapter 1: In An Instant

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

**WORD COUNT: 10711**

* * *

><p>"You know nobody reads this stupid paper," Claire said slowly as she pushed away the one she'd been glancing at with clear, mocking disinterest, her perfect nose wrinkling a bit with derision.<p>

Carson rolled his eyes.

"I read it," he said firmly, snatching the issue from her general vicinity and smoothing it back out. "Ms. Tetter and Ms. Crail read it."

Remy giggled across from him, making no real move to smother the sound, but he ignored her.

"Dude, aren't those the librarians?"

Carson didn't bat an eye.

"Mr. Sanders does too."

"Carson, let's be honest- Does Mr. Sanders or do the class gerbils?" Claire asked snidely, a simper twisting her thin, pink lips.

"He reeeeeads it first…ssssooooometimes," Malerie drawled, her attempt at support falling clearly flat.

"I'm sorry, are you even a member of this council?" Remy snapped.

"Nooooo…I'm helping Carsoooon distribuutee the paapers."

Carson paid them no mind, instead continuing on:

"And Mrs. Hearst promised she'd get a full stack of the Chronicle this week."

"Okay, as amusing as your denial is Carson, we do have business to attend to today," Claire sighed.

"Wait, wait," Remy exclaimed. "Mrs. Hearst is the debate teacher, isn't she?"

"Oh, good, you can remember a teacher's name that you haven't slept with," Carson muttered.

The cheerleader shot him a glare, straightening in her chair.

"I'm not a carpet muncher," she retorted with a look of disgust. "I just remembered Claire saying earlier that they were covering bad journalism and bad sources and stuff for arguments this week. That's right, isn't it Claire?"

"Yes, I was," Claire replied irritably. "Now, if we can just get back to business, we do have a budget to discuss for this coming dance, people. And a theme."

The last word was spoken as though it were an enticement and Carson groaned loudly.

He was surrounded by idiots.

He just had to hold onto the hope that their low IQ wouldn't ultimately lower his own, no matter how often he felt as though he were losing brain power just listening to his peers' superficial blathering, and keep praying he would live to tell his tale. Preferably in a best-selling novel.

Working title: Idiocracy, and other things that Completely Suck.

"We do need to discuss the copy machines first, though," he reminded Claire, not bothering to keep the undertone of contempt from his voice.

"You mean the ones you keep overworking for the stupid paper," the girl returned indignantly.

"Ingenious, 'underappreciated-because-it-actually-contains-articles-with-some-margin-of-depth' paper that will give my college applications the necessary extra edge to get out of here, while all of you remain to become farmers and housewives and eventually alcoholics drowning in booze as a metaphor for your small-town misery, you mean? That paper?"

"How are you talking that fast and not on something?" Justin asked, staring open-mouthed.

Remy tittered a bit in her seat, while Claire simply looked annoyed, though she was obviously trying to keep her countenance smooth and upbeat.

"Enough. The point is- you're given a limit for a reason."

"It's not even the good copy machine you're using," Nicholas informed him drolly. "Not worth the fight. I wouldn't lift a dime, nor would my father…"

"I wouldn't want you to," Carson retorted. "Besides, I heard they just got new ink in-"

"Oh, don't you dare," Claire hissed, horrified. "You are not messing with the good photocopy machine in the teacher's staff-room for the thrice-damned Chronicle _again_, Carson Phillips."

Carson formed a gun in his lap with his hand and considered miming shooting himself.

"The art-teacher's got enough paper-Mache supplies anyway," Remy tacked on.

Carson remained unmoved.

"The teachers can always repair it again if it goes haywire," he said nonchalantly.

Beneath her transparent simper, Claire's irritation shone through plainly.

"Carson, when your articles generate even a little buzz in this school, then maybe we can talk about it further. Until then-" she clapped her hands forcefully. "Back to the dance!"

He rolled his eyes, but didn't bother arguing the point further. After all, he'd had this sort of debate enough times before to recognize when his effort were futile. And he wasn't the sort to waste time.

Well, _more_ time, at least. There was only so much bullshit one could take without imploding, anyway.

"Now, I was thinking we go classic for the Fall Fling and have a Halloween theme. Cliché, maybe…bear with me though: I'm thinking we make this a _special_ Halloween. Like a romantics-oriented one perhaps?"

Remy let out a loud squeak of excitement, and Carson winced, leaning forward to slump against the table. It wasn't like he ever even went to the dances, so he knew, really, the vapid inanity around him shouldn't be as bothersome as it was. But it was one thing to be cliché and realize it; it was quite another to actually think you were being original whilst being as far from it as you could possibly get.

More like frustrating and depressing.

"Is that actually the best you can come up with?" he grumbled into the table.

"Will you please just shut up?" Remy snapped from her place across from him, hazel eyes narrowed and stabbing.

Carson rolled his head straight and then up, their gazes connecting, and gave her an impertinent simper, one hand raising to make a mocking locking motion over his lips.

She scowled and tossed her head, eyes rolling, and a small smirk twisted the false smile from his face.

He existed, after all, in beads of sweat, ink on page, and these such rare moments of pride, typically the fruit of either his hard work or the sarcasm in which he found refuge.

Carson didn't need anyone's approval; he was fine just the way he was. And he'd found what he frequently was, or became around his peers, was an ass- which was completely fine with him. He liked himself the way he was. And he couldn't possibly want the approval of the ridiculous people around him, either way. He was bold and different and going somewhere, and his newspaper, very much not stupidly, was going to help him get there. And they'd see someday. He was sure.

Although maybe, just maybe, the tiniest part of him wanted them to see just a little sooner. That'd be nice. Just to see their expressions, really.

After all, their faces when they realized just how much he was meant to make it and be more than them, and this stupid town… That alone was reason enough to maybe push himself just a little further…Maybe.

He'd like to prove to them that his paper was more than what they thought, and he knew he could. Perhaps he could go the extra mile for an article for the next issue? It would certainly be good for his journalistic experience, wouldn't it? A win, no matter what happened. He could do that.

The bell signaling students to start heading to class ground its way from the loudspeakers, shrilling in all their ears, and Carson heaved himself up from the chair, quickly beginning to gather his books and head for the door, Malerie at his heels like an overeager puppy-dog.

They had first period together, then second was journalism, again, together, and he'd asked her help getting the papers put out before they got to class. Of course, at the time he'd forgotten the council meeting that morning; otherwise he would have just sucked it up and done it himself. No need to drag her with him everywhere; contrary to the common conclusion that "losers" sticking together would work to keep snickering and verbal assaults a bit more at bay, it just made the both of them bigger targets.

Of course, this was something that Malerie hadn't actually quite caught on to just yet.

"Mrs. Hearst?" he asked, rapping his knuckle once against the open door.

The debate teacher turned to him and gave a strained sort of smile.

"Carson," she replied with a nod. "You brought by the papers?"

"Yeah," he nodded shortly and stepped into the room, motioning once quickly at Malerie who he spotted standing uneasily outside of Ms. Gill's freshman english class to go in and do her own job just before.

He ignored a few mocking or bored gazes from early students, striding purposefully toward the teacher.

Carson handed her the stack, which she took gratefully, and then turned to leave, not willing to wait around, but paused before he could fully retreat and returned to her.

Her gaze was curious, but also impatient, so he just came out with it. Neither of them were really the type for dawdling.

"Are you really using The Chronicle for examples of bad journalism and sourcing?"

Mrs. Hearst's forehead wrinkled.

"Who told you that?"

"Claire Matthews. Well, her and Remy Baker. Student council this morning."

"Right," the teacher sighed. "Well, it's not entirely a fallacy."

"Of course it's not," Carson muttered, a scowl insistently pulling at his mouth. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"They weren't entirely correct though," Mrs. Hearst said, and her voice was a strange mixture of pitying, no-nonsense, and impatient.

"It's fine," Carson told her shortly, not caring to be bull-shitted anymore. He was already at maximum capacity for the day, thank you very much, and the annoyingly amused looks of some of the entering debate students were only putting him more on edge.

The pity evaporated from the teacher's expression quick as a blink, and Carson was about to move towards the door once more when she spoke tersely:

"I'm not making anything up for your benefit," she informed him. "I am using The Chronicle for an assignment that may not cast the best light, but we're reviewing amateur press and comparing sourcing, as well as arguments, between various papers."

"I was just curious," he told her, working an undertone of contrition into his voice.

"Well, then you might want to get to class or finish distributing your papers," she replied, rebuke in her steady voice and he nodded in both agreement and farewell, with her returning the gesture, before hurrying from the room, glaring at the three or so jocks laughing at him as he left.

Journalism third period was both his favorite and least favorite class.

Carson took to the front of the room, calling out roll as per usual to a round of rousing crickets chirping silence after every name.

Not that it mattered much, seeing as there were only four other students in the class.

Vicki, Dwayne, and Emile were all present and accounted for, the first and last looking bored, while Dwayne was spaced out, probably high. Again, the usual.

Just as the customary minute wait was about to be up, Malerie rushed in, huffing, and took her seat, throwing him an apologetic look.

Carson quickly scratched a "P" for present into the attendance book next to her name, then check-marked tardy in the notations, and closed it, clearing his throat.

"Alright, good, looks like we're all here. Since printing took place last night and I did it almost entirely by myself again I'd like to start looking at assignments early for this bi-weekly period. Vicki, you're still on weather, though as penalty for not reporting once this week I think you should do a little more. Maybe a column of gender vs. gender reviews for various new movies in the theater, along with Dwayne this time. Help him pick up the slack."

"You're kidding me," Vicki scowled, giving a childish purple-lipstick-ed pout that looked strange with her gothic facade.

"Can't I at least do something cool in this hellhole? What about a concert review?"

"How about on top of what I already said you interview the Sunday school teacher at Brighter Baptist Church about what she thinks of your Satanic style?" Carson snarked. "She's your mom, isn't she? So I take it she'd have a most interesting perspective."

The girl humph-ed at him, arms crossing over her chest, but didn't press the matter further, and Carson took that as his cue to go on.

It was a shame though.

That might actually have been an interesting assignment, seeing as Carson was pretty sure Vicki's mom actually had no clue about all the goth and satan-related garb and make-up her daughter wore. Family drama _did_ often bring in audiences…

"Moving on."

As class began to drag towards a close, Carson found himself meditating more and more on the comments from the student government meeting that morning, as well as those of the debate teacher.

He hated to admit it, but they really weren't _completely_ incorrect about the paper's popularity and typical content…He'd never sell out or lower himself to "who's hotter?" polls or any of that nonsense, but, again, maybe he could stretch himself a little more somehow. There had to be something he could do. If the paper remained as it was, it wouldn't be seen anywhere near as admirably as it deserved to be, and he was sure he'd end up working himself into an early grave (not that that would really necessarily be the worst thing, but he wasn't about to give his peers the satisfaction of dropping dead, not before he'd proved every one of them wrong).

If he did, it would have to be something he was legitimately intrigued by, though. Something worth his time, and the extra effort and such.

Carson groaned inwardly.

Well, okay. It was decided.

One more thing he'd have to work on tonight.

Looked like he'd be giving up his lunch hour to do some research on the library computers again. He could do that. The cafeteria was never really all that pleasant a place to be, anyway, and Carson had higher priorities than food.

He'd just find a way to have something during the mandatory phys. ed. class, which he tended to blow off to the best of his ability, while still maintaining a good grade.

Carson quickly figured out that he'd need to search for events in the larger Fresno area, and those surrounding, most prominently Los Angeles.

He'd narrowed down the subjects of his events quickly from there.

He was thinking something that involved either music or television/film at this point, but something not just anyone would be able to get into or would know about…

He'd been contemplating a concert, but quickly decided the fit from Vicky wouldn't be worth it. Film festivals were of interest to him, but he ultimately put them on the back burner; knowing his classmates, that was unlikely to raise the general interest, and it was too close to the scheme of Vicky and Dwayne's assignments.

He was liking the film idea, though, if only because of all the different angles you could go on, and, on a whim, he searched to see if there was anything filming that required extras. Preferably something low-key enough that people like Nicholas and Scott wouldn't know of it or want to be there, but big enough that his presence would actually hold some weight.

There were four things with open-extra events coming up.

The first was a high-school romance called "Too Young to Love", and, sorry, no. That was just not going to happen. Carson loved the paper and the opportunity to get out and be on a movie set was definitely intriguing and all, but that was just too much.

He very nearly just clicked the back button when he saw the second option.

It said "romance" and "coming of age"…but the summary made it beyond clear that they were just making a glorified sex tape, and, again, no. Seriously; what the hell was wrong with people these days?

The title of the apparently collegiate film was "Horny Days". And here Carson had thought he had no faith in humanity left to lose…

Just before he exited in disappointed disgust, though, the third one on the list caught his eye.

He read the summary twice, frowning critically.

…It didn't actually sound completely horrible…

**IN AN INSTANT**

**Open Call - Unpaid Extras Needed - Contact: Ava Meledez avamelendez_ Open only to those 18 and over, PREFERED: students at UCLA Campus- also placement of filming. First Come, first serve.**

**In An Instant: A stirring drama wherein a teacher receives fatal injury in front of the student body at an assembly, and teaches those students who bore witness a more valuable lesson than any other- All it takes is one instant, one chance tempting of fate, and everything can be over. A tale of grief, growing up, and the way we all must adapt and change to the harsher realities of life as they hit. Or, perhaps, as they strike, all in an instant.**

The summary was cheesy and redundant. It would almost definitely be a flop…

But they were filming at a school campus…a school he'd been considering applying to next year. He'd been looking for an excuse to visit, hadn't he?

And he could interview students attending…

But would it be enough of a hook?

A quick google search revealed that the recent heartthrob Effron of High School Musical infamy would be involved, and Carson couldn't be sure whether to smirk or grimace in distaste.

Well…as long as the pretty boy didn't sing or ramble about how popular he was and how hard the charmed life could be…

Carson allowed the smirk.

He had his hook; his personal reward; now all he needed was a way to get in…

A glance to the time revealed that there were two minutes to the bell. Carson quickly printed the information he'd gathered and logged out, grabbing his stuff.

If he hurried, he could probably catch Dwayne smoking up under the bleachers before gym started.

He hastened outside and around to the stands next to the football field, ducking beneath them, only barely flinching away from the strong stench of marijuana clinging to the chilled air around him.

Dwayne was standing around with four other guys and three girls, while another guy and girl were making out on the ground a few feet away, and another two girls were kissing heavily, occasionally pulling away to drag at what he guessed were pot-cigarettes.

The coach was just a few yards away, talking to Dwayne's older brother Jordan. They were very plainly making some sort of drug deal.

Carson rolled his eyes, a little less sure of his decision now that he was here.

He really didn't want to talk to these guys. He definitely wasn't digging the thought of drawing all of their attention.

Of course, if he didn't, chances were the couple making out would proceed to full on coitus right in front of him.

No thank you.

"Dwayne," he called out.

A few of the kids glanced vaguely over at him, but Dwayne was not one of them.

The coach, however, was.

"Oh, uh, Carson Phillips," the coach exclaimed, twitching slightly as he backed swiftly from where he'd stood with Jordan Michaels, who was holding a baggie close to his person and looking incredibly annoyed. "I was just giving detentions and reporting…"

"I don't care," Carson cut him short. "I just need to talk to Dwayne. It's about the paper."

Dwayne's eyes had finally drifted to him and he let out a loud groan.

"No," the boy complained loudly. "Didn't I, like, just get away from you man? And how are there so many of you? No way you clone that fast…Not fair."

"You're high and there's only one of me, and that one needs to talk to you," Carson informed him impatiently.

"So…if there's four of you, but really one, doesn't that make there really four of me?"

"Woah, man, that's deep," the guy next to Dwayne said, looking completely awed. There were a few murmurs of agreement, and Dwayne nodded.

"I don't even know. I was just thinking it and it came out…"

"Woah…"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Carson snapped. "Dwayne, I need to make a deal with you, okay?"

That got their attention.

"What kind of deal?"

It wasn't Dwayne but Jordan that spoke, though Dwayne nodded heavily in agreement.

No going back now.

Carson shrugged stiffly.

"I'd prefer not to go into this out here," he said pointedly.

A guttural moan broke into the air and Carson grimaced.

It seemed the couple was now completing their home run.

"Please," he forced out.

"Fine," Jordan again spoke for Dwayne.

He gestured to a spot about six yards from where he currently stood, in a collection of trees, and Carson forced himself to follow the brothers, as well as Dwayne's admiring friend, Nick-something, he was pretty sure, past the group of stoners, many of whom had followed the fornicating couple's example and begun pairing up.

Carson was pretty sure he'd never been less interested in having relations of his own- and generally that was a subject he found far less alluring than he knew he was meant to in the first place.

Not that he didn't have urges of a sexual nature, or anything like that. His biology was perfectly intact. But he had many things far higher on his list of priorities, and with the way his fellow students acted about it, it had started to hold a certain level of…distaste…for him. Besides, there weren't actually any possibilities for relations in those around him, logically speaking, anyway. There were only a few people that didn't annoy the hell out of him, and towards those he was generally indifferent or simply unaware. So, why bother?

"So, what kind of deal?" Jordan asked again as they reached the clump of forestry towards the foot of a small hill at the back of the bleachers.

Carson wasted no time cutting to the chase.

He'd made his decision already, so there was no place for falter now. He mostly just wanted it done.

"ID's. One that says I'm legal, another a student ID for UCLA."

Jordan barked out a laugh, and the other two followed his lead, lapsing into giggles.

Carson scowled.

"What?" he snapped.

"Do you have any idea what you're asking, kid?" Jordan sneered.

Carson straightened up.

"Yeah. I do."

"Okay, and how you gonna pay for that?"

Plan one…

Without missing a beat, Carson replied, "I'm not."

"Excuse me?"

Each of the guys had straightened with him and now they'd stepped forward, pressing him back against a tree.

Even Dwayne, ever chill, looked a bit pissed, or at least uneasy.

Jordan looked furious.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Jordan hissed.

Carson held his ground, choosing to ignore the five or so inches and at least fifty pounds the senior had over him.

"I've been recording all of this," he informed them quietly. "I have evidence. I can turn you guys in. So, I need ID's. I get them? The footage's gone."

It was actually only half a bluff, too. He'd taken one of his audio recorders for journalism along with him.

But he was sort of counting on not needing to whip anything out, nonetheless.

Jordan barreled into him, slamming him back hard against the tree, and Carson was unable to restrain a hard gasp as the air fled from his lungs.

"You can't do shit if you're dead," he menaced against Carson's ear.

Carson managed to roll his eyes.

"Kill me and you'll just have a bigger problem on your hands," he informed the older boy. "This goes back to a live feed at my house, on my personal computer, and is being saved as it goes along to a usb port."

Carson pulled on his best poker face.

He was pretty sure if he was one to play either that or bullshit he'd make a complete killing.

No pun intended.

"Jordan, man, he's crazy smart," Dwayne muttered to his brother. "And with his clones, no way we'll be able to beat him."

"There are no clones, dumbass," Jordan retorted, irritation plain. "Fine, freak. But I want at least some compensation, do you read me? Your stupid blackmail isn't enough for that much work, kid."

Carson winced inwardly.

He didn't actually have much money to spare…He'd sort of been depending on his bluffed blackmail to be his ace in the hole.

"We'll see. What do you want?"

Jordan paused to scrutinize him, and Carson puffed out impertinently under his cold glare.

"You're smart… useful, probably. So- three favors," he said finally. "No questions asked. They can be anything."

"No murder unless it's one of the annoying cheerleaders or football players. Or Claire Mathews."

Jordan laughed again, the sound hard but amused.

"No murder."

"Nothing jail-sentence worthy, actually," Carson continued to stipulate. "I'm doing all this to get a good future. You might as well kill me now if I'm not going to get there anyway."

"Whatever," Jordan said, shrugging away from him. "Three favors. And if you piss me off, it'll be more. And I can kick your ass. This is a verbal contract, and if you're really recording it…"

"Yeah, I got it," Carson grumbled. He didn't like it, but he was smart enough to know this was the best deal he'd get. He could always do some recon later.

"When do you need them ready by?" It was the Nick guy who asked this, and Carson noticed he was tapping something out in his phone. Probably going to text all of them an overview of the deal to keep business straight.

Well, shit. He'd apparently underestimated them.

Not that it changed anything. They were smarter than expected, but not more so than him.

"Three weeks. September 13th. At the latest." The shoot was September 14th.

"I'd say we're good," Dwayne grinned. Jordan nodded firmly, eyes still narrowed at him.

Carson returned the gesture.

"I'll be in touch," he muttered, turning quickly away and making his escape.

He'd already missed more than half of gym, he realized. But that was fine.

He was already blackmailing at least three peers. Why not add the Coach to the list as well?

He might even get a bit more time to work on his hands, if he played his cards right.

Which, he thought as he fingered the recorder in his pocket, according to his calculations, he always did.

* * *

><p>"Jesse! I need you to be my wingman!"<p>

Naomi was grinning disarmingly wide at him.

Jesse groaned, not bothering to look up.

"Last time I did that Lucas pitched a fit and nearly locked me out of the dorm. What do you think of my drawing? It's good, right?"

Naomi waved a hand dismissively, throwing herself onto the rec room couch beside him.

"Yes, sure. You're perfect at everything, Jesse. All the deities worship you as their most incredible creation, blah blah. Lucas threatens to lock you out every other week. Besides! He'll hopefully be there too!"

Jesse did look up at that, quickly, his brow ever so slightly furrowed, lips quirked with amusement.

"You want me to help hook you up with someone other than your boyfriend while he's watching? Is this some new fetish kink deal because I thought I made it clear after last time that I don't want to be involved anymore."

"Well, I did tell him there was a possibility of a threesome to make the offer more appealing…"

"And he agreed?"

"Only under the condition that the person's a girl," Naomi sighed. "Which- you know- I'm cool with that. I dig the pussy, especially with a nice side of weiner schnitzel."

"My ears are forever scarred," Jesse murmured, and Naomi chortled in response.

"Seth wants us all to go with him to the movie scene shoot or whatever they're doing on Campus in September. Apparently your theater director recommended it."

"Seth is far too prone to suggestion," Jesse scoffed, eyes glued to the ears of the cat he was doodling.

"True. But he's also very excited about putting it on his resume or whatever. His enthusiasm is highly infectious and highly frightening," she observed wryly, twisting a strand of hair around her finger.

Jesse laughed shortly, still focused on shading with his pencil around the cat's ears, head, and tail.

"He's intense. And that's coming from me."

"Yeah, but you're not truly intense anyway," she said, reaching over to pat vaguely at his shoulder as though trying to comfort him. He smirked at her.

"I'm not going."

Naomi frowned.

"No, you have to! You have to wingman for me!"

"Why do you even need a wingman again?" he asked distractedly, growing a bit bored and not bothering to hide the fact.

"I don't," Naomi replied honestly. "But it makes it so much more fun. And you know you love seeing Lucas's expressions."

"I took pictures of them last time, so I don't actually need to risk my room to see him pissed off anymore."

"Oh, Come on. You know it's better live action. It's always better live action."

Jesse groaned.

"Me wingmanning isn't your only motivation here, is it?"

"Not really," Naomi shrugged. "But it is a part!"

Jesse shook his head, amusement returning to him.

"Of course it is. I'm a killer wingman. Now, what's the rest?"

"Seth," Naomi said shortly, flapping her arms lazily as if to express some intangible frustration. "He's adorable and interesting and everything, not to mention very good at the schmoozing which is a feature I happen to appreciate, but he'll drive Luke and I crazy… You're the only person who really understands half his theatre-talk anyway. And he wants you to come. And I told him yes…and you know, if you're not there, seeing him after will be hell. And you'll feel like shit, since he has a way of making everyone feel guilty without ever trying."

"So my reward is supposed to be that I get_ less_ clueless guilting… for a while?"

"And you'll be saving me from a serious case of lady-blue-balls."

Jesse rolled his eyes.

"You know, I'm really starting to think you're some sort of nympho."

Naomi tossed her head to the side so she could face him as she grinned.

"I wish I was. Then I'd have an excuse to do it all the time."

"Well, I bet the new amateur porn tapes would sell at least as well as the old ones," he mused, and she laughed loudly.

"Please. If you'd sold any of our sex tapes you'd have earned millions. Besides, your video camera is still broken from when you forgot to put it away before bringing your date in to make out and Amy Sussten completely spazzed thinking you were recording her…Anywho. So you'll come right?"

"…nah. I'd really rather not," Jesse shrugged, eyeing his drawing again.

"Oh God," Naomi moaned. "You're gonna kill me, Jesse. Just you wait. I'll sic Lucas on you."

Jesse didn't bother to turn away from the doodled cat in front of him.

"Oh please. He always fails miserably when I allow a musical throwdown."

Naomi facepalmed beside him.

"Okay, okay. Texting in the big guns now. Don't say I didn't give you a chance though. And wipe that smirk of your face, Jesse St. James!"

"What smirk?" Jesse asked, still smirking broadly. "Don't you like my cat? I should totally make a museum for all my cat drawings. The exhibit could be called 'Jesse's Cat-pictures through the years'. So at least one from as many years as I've been drawing them. I've been a bit of a prodigy my whole life, if you can't tell. Even more so than the ex back home in Lima I told you about."

Naomi ignored him, humming a bar of Queen's "We are the Champions" under her breath as she stretched out on the couch, letting her bare feet flex against the side of Jesse's jean-clad thigh.

"Jesse! Naomi said you wanted to talk to me."

"No," Jesse complained quietly to Naomi, who shot him a smug look.

"Hey Seth," Naomi called out and Jesse reluctantly raised his eyes to greet the other boy with a nod.

Seth nodded his curly head, solemn eyes positively gleaming.

He meandered over to them and sank into the armchair to Jesse's right.

"What's going on?"

Jesse opted to ignore the other in favor of extracting another paper from his folder and a new pencil, tapping the tip against his jaw as he considered what type of cat to draw next.

There was a silence during which Jesse stubbornly brought his pencil to the paper, only to pull it back indecisively.

He just couldn't make up his mind as to whether to continue with domestic cats or go onto more exotic, jungle breeds.

"Jesse? I thought you wanted to talk to me…"

"Hm? Oh yes…" Jesse held up his drawing. "What do you think of my cat? And what kind of cat should I draw next?"

Seth sat forward, eyeing the drawing.

"Well, if that's what you really want to talk about, I wouldn't say throw away music for cat-art, but that is actually really good! It's like…an attitude cat! You should make those, Jesse. And get someone in the art department maybe to do coloring and getting it into posters and stickers- you could actually turn that into a thing! Like those Jesus bumper stickers. I'd buy one! And…I'd say you should diversify on the next one, just to mix it up."

Jesse smirked.

"Brilliant. That's exactly what I was thinking."

"Oh for heaven's sake," Naomi muttered. "Seth, we were actually just talking about the shoot."

Seth frowned.

"Oh…okay," his smile returned, though it was a little less honest now. "You're coming then, right? All of you guys? It's going to be awesome. Think- an actual movie."

"We'd just be unpaid extras," Jesse reminded him, a tiny bit of guilt beginning to surface, which was completely unfair. Jesse St. James was not prone to feeling bad, and he didn't like it. If he wasn't guilty about his sister's bulimia and his brother's huffing addiction, he really shouldn't feel bad for not wanting to go be bored for hours in the bleachers with no real payoff. This movie was going to be a complete dud, anyway.

Seth looked upset.

"Yeah, but in a real movie, Jesse! We can put this on our resumes. You can probably even build it up on paper if you want! And it'll be so much fun!"

Jesse looked at his paper.

"Do you think a jungle cat design would be good?"

"Yeah, fine, whatever," Seth sighed, his tone one of stifled injury. "I've got to head to fundamentals anyway. I wanted to talk to Shapiro before class. Naomi, I'll see you after in Advanced right?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then," Naomi informed. "Remember to save my seat? That Sharon bitch keeps trying to take it just to piss me off."

Seth nodded, standing quickly, at smiled goodbye before turning heel and heading for his class.

"You're heartless," Naomi informed Jesse. "You know how happy it'll make him if you show up."

"Things have been awkward since that party," Jesse shrugged. "And I don't do tension unless it actually goes somewhere. Like sex. Or a sing-off."

Naomi sighed.

"Please, Jesse. Hell, if you go maybe you can also wingman for him. And hook-up with someone, too. If he sees you actively looking at other people and going home with someone or something, then he'll probably realize it really didn't mean anything."

Jesse groaned. He was still feeling guilty, too.

"Okay, okay. Fine. I'll do it. I'm agreeing. Now can you help me out with this cat?"

"Yes," Naomi exclaimed, beaming. "Jesse, I swear you won't regret this. I'll get you a new scarf or something too. We'll have so much fun."

"I'm counting on that," Jesse said blandly. "Now cat?"

"Do a lion motif," Naomi tossed out with a grin. "I'm gonna go find Lucas and tell him that now he has to go."

"He's in drafting right now," Jesse complained.

Naomi laughed, heaving herself up.

"Yes, but Rose is awesome and loves both me and Lucas, so I can get away with it. I'll see you later. Good luck with your drawing!"

Jesse rolled his eyes, not bothering to return the sentiment as Naomi loped happily from the commons.

He turned his attentions back to the paper, and began with the long, swishing tail.

* * *

><p>The two and a half weeks until the shoot passed too quickly for Jesse's taste, and he was admittedly in a rather crappy mood as he met with the others at the fence around the field and showed his student ID to the amusingly chill guy at the front.<p>

They were ushered in by a separate individual, a decent group following them, and another in the stands.

Supposedly, Zac Effron was in this, so Jesse wasn't completely surprised.

When he was famous, though, he'd be able to get so many more if he did something like this. Jesse was pretty sure he was at least as attractive, and far more talented. Though he wouldn't actually be involved in an open extra thing if he could avoid it…

"This is so cool," Seth breathed excitedly, and Jesse nodded vaguely at him.

He was just glad he'd brought both his iPod and a pad of paper and pencils.

"What do you think Lucas? See anyone of interest yet?" he heard Naomi ask excitedly, and Jesse smirked over at his roommate.

Lucas's ears had reddened at being put on the spot.

"Well…" Lucas glanced around at those assembled as they seated themselves. "That chick over there is pretty hot."

He pointed to a girl a few rows up and to the left of them.

Jesse and Naomi both looked obligingly.

"Very understated," Jesse observed.

"Which means not hot enough," Naomi added, and both she and Jessie turned back to Lucas with almost identical smirks.

His brow furrowed.

"I thought she was hot, babe."

"Fine," Naomi said, rolling her eyes. "We'll put her in the maybe's. Ohhh, I like that girl, the one next to…how old is that kid?"

Jesse snickered.

"He looks even younger than Seth."

Seth glared at them.

"That's completely unfair. I'm older than most of you. Only Naomi is ahead of me."

"Okay," Naomi said quietly. "You wingman me with the girl, and I'll wingman you with the youngling."

Jesse chortled.

"You want me to hook up with him?"

"He looks fun," Naomi retorted. "So intense and nervous. I bet he snuck in. Come on."

Jesse shrugged.

"Hell. Might as well start working my way in. He's my first challenge then I guess."

"I doubt he'll be a challenge," Seth muttered resentfully. "Look, they're setting up the equipment! I wonder what type of lens they're using for that camera…"

"Twenty bucks you spend the whole night trying to get him to go out with you."

"You're kidding me," Jesse said, snorting at Lucas's wager, and Naomi laughed loudly.

"I'll go twenty-five he gets shot down by Mr. Masculine."

"Thirty if the kid ignores him," Lucas added. "Or threatens him. He looks really into whatever he's doing. And straight. Probably one of those uptight guys with a stick so far up their ass the thought of them wanting anything else up there just pisses them off."

"You're totally one of those guys," Naomi reminded him through gales of continuing laughter.

Lucas scoffed.

"I'm not pissed off by it! Otherwise I would be freaking out about Jesse. I'm just completely Kinsey zero, or one at most."

"You screw what you want to screw," Jesse commented sagely. "Sex is sex. And limits get you nowhere in the business I'm interested in, anyway."

"Yes, we know your philosophy very well," Seth sighed churlishly. "We'll be starting soon, I think…"

"Come on, let's go," Naomi said, grabbing Jesse's elbow and dragging him up.

"Fine, okay. Guys, watch my stuff," Jesse called out as he was pulled away.

They approached the girl first, the guy having moved away momentarily with a notebook and recorder in hand and determined expression on his face.

* * *

><p>Carson wasn't having as much luck as he'd hoped.<p>

It turned out a lot of the people here were Effron fangirls, so that the few interviews he'd managed to get had mostly involved long-winded rambles about the guy's abs and hair. All the rest seemed to be wannabe self-obsessed actors who only wanted to talk about auditions and resumes and how much star-potential they had, and how much show business both sucked and was completely amazing, "I swear I saw Jennifer Anniston yesterday".

He had a feeling he'd be on the verge of going all psycho Columbine on these idiots by the time this was over.

Hell, he was already on the verge.

"I asked whether or not you thought opportunities like this are more about vanity and ego-boosting than a lack of funds…"

"Seriously? Are you saying Zac Effron's a narcissist?" a girl he was interviewing named Ellena asked irritably. "Just because he's super hot?"

"Zac Effron's not the only one involved in this movie, and he's definitely not running publicity or casting or producing or anything relevant to my question," Carson sighed, exasperated. "I don't think he's even here."

The girl glowered.

"You don't know that."

"That's why I said think," Carson reminded her acidly.

"Whatever. I don't think I want to be interviewed by you anymore," the girl said truculently.

Carson rolled his eyes.

"Good. Trying to interview you was killing off my brain cells anyway. They were all trying to jump ship when they realized how empty your head must be, and how lonely the few neurons you have working are. Have fun listening to your Justin Bieber music."

"You're insulting the Biebs too?" The girl called after him, sounding outraged. "Jackass!"

Carson stalked back towards where he'd been, hoping Tiffany was willing to act like she was someone else and be interviewed again.

She was the first even semi-tolerable and semi-intellectual person he'd found here.

"Tiffany-"

She smiled at him brightly and held up a finger.

"Hold on!"

Then turned back to the girl and guy in front of her, an excited looking latina and a smirking, self-satisfied guy with curly hair that absolutely reeked of condescension.

Carson frowned. The guy was now staring at him, very oddly.

Maybe he wanted to be interviewed too?

Carson hadn't interviewed many guys yet. Just one or two. Although he wasn't sure he wanted to with this one…

"Yeah, we'll talk, for sure," he heard Tiffany finishing up with them. "You have my number now. Oh! Hold on, before you go, this is my new friend Carson! Carson, this is Naomi," she gestured to the girl and Carson flashed the latina a wary glance, "and this is Jesse."

The guy immediately took a step forward and held out his hand.

"Jesse St. James," he said, almost primly, eyes still frighteningly dark and focused.

Carson slowly reached forward to shake his hand.

Jesse's grip was strong and firm, and Carson instantly tightened his own grip, subconsciously asserting himself.

The other boy's smirk grew even more pronounced.

"What's your name?"

Carson frowned. Jesse had yet to release his hand.

"It's Carson, as she said," he reminded him pointedly. "Carson Phillips."

"Right," Jesse said calmly, still not letting go. "Sorry I just looked in your eyes and instantly got caught up in the lyrics of 'It Only Takes a Moment' from the classic Broadway musical Hello Dolly. Of course, much of it is largely derivative, but it so suits this connection between us, I think."

Carson paused, bewildered and more than a little annoyed.

"What connection? Look, I was just going to ask if you'd do an interview for me for my paper, but-"

"We'd love to," the girl, Naomi, interrupted.

Carson nodded.

"Uh-huh. Well, I don't think it's really all that good an idea anymore and…oh, for fuck's sake! Will you let go of my hand already?"

"I can sing for you," Jesse offered with a smarmy smile.

Carson glowered at him.

"No thanks," he said irritably. "I don't really want to deal with every local dog in a ten mile radius beginning to howl."

"Oh, trust me. I'm incredibly talented. I'd even be willing to be the subject of your article with only minimal compensation."

Carson groaned at him.

"Your ego is beginning to suffocate me. I'm pretty sure a recording of it would work like the cursed videotape from The Ring. And I'm not up for dying in seven days, so...Fuck it. Just let me go before your incessant narcissism makes me actually kill you, alright?"

Jesse let go, but quickly reached over and grabbed the recorder from Carson's hand before he could stop him.

"What the hell? Give me my tape deck back! I need that for journalism!"

Jesse frowned.

"What school do you even go to? You do realize this is an arts school?"

"Yeah, I got that," Carson said through gritted teeth. "Do you want to be punched?"

Jesse and Naomi both laughed loudly, while Tiffany tittered on the bench, not bothering to suppress her smile.

Carson was already miles less fond of her.

"Tape deck. Now."

Jesse rolled his eyes, still wearing the same smarmy smile.

"You wanted an interview, right? I'll give you one. And in exchange you can give me your number."

Carson's scowl turned incredulous.

"Seriously? You want my number? …You're legitimately attempting to pick me up. Wow…"

"I know. I am."

"Oh God, you didn't realize, did you?" Naomi asked, laughter resurfacing.

Jesse's smile became somehow smarmier still.

"How cute. Well, now that we're on the same page-"

"Cute," Carson repeated, sounding both dumbfounded and more irritated than ever. "Are you insane?"

"Your self-esteem's low. Let me build it up. With song and sex we can rule the world."

"…Okay. So you're fucking with me then. Fantastic. Give me my goddamn tape deck back, asshole."

"You're special Casper. Why don't you see that?"

Carson's eyes narrowed.

"It's Carson," he replied deadpan.

Naomi and Tiffany both were beside themselves, and Carson mentally added them to his list of people he'd have beheaded for whatever flimsy excuse he could if he were Henry the eighth.

"Sorry, I was thinking of how much you resemble the friendly ghost."

"Well if we're calling people by what they resemble, then I guess I should be referring to you as ass."

"Look, sorry to interject, but weren't you already?" Naomi asked.

Carson groaned again.

"I just want my tapedeck back. That's it."

Jesse's eyes glinted and he held out the tapedeck.

"This old thing?"

Carson batted angrily at it and Jesse grinned, snatching it back.

"You know, Carson, I was wrong. You don't remind me of a friendly ghost at all! You remind me of a cat!"

"I'm going to murder you, and it will be slow, and it will be painful."

"Oh my God, he totally does," Naomi guffawed, and Tiffany exclaimed in agreement, giggling like mad.

"And this tape deck? It's your cat nip," Jesse went on, stuffing Carson's recorder into his jeans with a cheeky grin. "So, then, how about you come over here and try to get it like any good cat would, and I'll maybe even let you have a taste later on."

Carson's jaw worked for a long moment, his fists clenched at his sides, and then, abruptly, every muscle every so minutely began to unlock.

"Fine," he said, tone somehow both heavy and buoyant.

Naomi and Jesse were both smirking again as Carson swiftly drew himself over, pressing himself ever closer to Jesse, refreshed, relaxed determination giving his jaw a whole new set.

Carson closed in, fitting himself against Jesse's side.

Jesse's breath caught blink-and-miss as, face blank, Carson smoothly reached around and nonchalantly slid his hand into the other's pants, easily locating his recorder and removing it with a smirk of his own.

"Satisfied?" he murmured against Jesse's stubbled chin, before pulling back. "Jackass."

"Hey guys! One minute to filming! Get in your places, make sure not to talk loudly. Remember, you're high-school kids. Be in character!"

Carson pointedly gathered his things and moved away from the group of people staring at him, towards the opposite end of the bleachers.

Hopefully he'd have better luck on this side. At least, he figured, he was away from that smarmy, smug jerk.

* * *

><p>"The champs return," Lucas grinned as Jesse sat down, Naomi and Tiffany close behind.<p>

"Champ," Naomi corrected.

Lucas and Seth both frowned, obviously confused.

"Who…?"

Seth's look of hope just about sent Jesse over the edge; fortunately, he was already entering his show-zone.

"Me," Naomi informed the guys, sounding proud but a little disappointed.

A beat of awkward silence hung between them.

"Much as I want my money, seriously? It looked like he publicly gave you a handjob."

"Jesse put the kids recorder thing in his pants and the kid got it, then called him a jackass."

"Oh, damn," Lucas exclaimed quietly, mindful of the cameras on them. "Jesse got burned by an infant! I do believe you owe me fifty bucks then man!"

Jesse scowled at him, quickly pulling his wallet from his back-pocket and yanking a fifty dollar bill out.

"Whatever. I still managed to get him in my pants, didn't I?"

"So you're done with it now right?" Seth asked a little too loudly, eyes virtually glowing under the ray of sunshine beating down on him.

Jesse paused.

"Well, he was annoying, but I did get a kick out of the drama. It was all so 10 Things I Hate About You…"

The newest chick to their group, Tiffany stopped snickering with the rest of them to ask, "Wait, but are you Patrick Verona or Joey Donner?"

"He's a total Patrick," Seth said quietly. "Now, can we talk about something else? Look- that's the guy who's playing the teacher…"

Feeling the familiar Seth-guilt starting in, Jesse shrugged his agreement, automatically making a comment about Broadway and actor prestige, and the others followed his lead.

Three hours and approximately two five minute breaks later found them on their first break of thirty, and found Jesse bored out of his mind.

He was becoming more and more tempted to make a break for it, honestly, and was beginning to consider switching career paths as well.

This was more dull and annoying than Grease 2.

"I was talking to the set guys about the equipment and you wouldn't believe…"

Jesse nodded as many times he could along with Seth's excited storytelling, unable to shake his desire to get away.

"So then I took it and I think he might actually be able to get Lucas and me a job some time. Like, this is a real connection in the industry."

"I'm so proud," Naomi declared happily. "My babies all grown up."

"You know, it's kind of creepy you're calling me that since we've had sex three hundred and four times," Lucas said quietly against Naomi's neck and her eyes flashed.

"You know, we could always scratch sex in a public bathroom off our list again, bump that up to three hundred and five. Baby."

Tiffany looked awkwardly away, turning to Jesse.

"Are they always like this?"

"Yep," Jesse replied flatly. He was still feeling that itching to get out of here.

Giving in, he stood quickly to go, though he wasn't quite sure where just yet.

Naomi and Lucas both stared at him in bemusement.

"Are you joining us?" Naomi asked, her tone heavily sarcastic.

Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Nope. Just thirsty. Going to go grab some water."

"I'll come with," Seth offered, and Jesse winced inwardly.

"I'm fine."

"Well, be careful. Lots of middle schoolers waiting to break your heart out there," Lucas sniggered.

Jesse scowled at him.

"I'll be back."

"Yeah, you better," Lucas said seriously. "You know I always come back with the best stories and you're the only real audience I've got to regale with them, man. Only one who can handle the mature content."

Jesse smirked.

"Yeah, whatever. Where would I go?"

He sauntered away, not bothering to wait for an answer.

He was on his way back from the student store at the back of the field, a bottle of water in the hand, when he spotted the kid from earlier standing at the edge of the stands.

Carson Phillips.

Jesse doubted he'd forget the name now.

The kid was talking, or trying to, one hand gripping the wrist on the other side tightly, pressed hard into his chest like a physical restraint.

He almost looked a little scared.

Definitely angry. And flustered, too.

Rightfully so. Jesse could vaguely hear the security guard's heated accusations all the way where he stood, at least fifteen yards away.

Well, might as well enjoy it right?

Smirking, Jesse moved closer to listen in.

The guard wasn't really giving Carson a chance to talk, readily interrupting every excuse. It was a different guy from the lax officer of when they'd first entered, this one clearly trying to compensate for his peers' relaxed attitudes by being a hardass.

The overcompensation was also definitely working.

Carson desperately held out an ID, it looked like, as Jesse came closer, but the guy was having none of it. He wanted to get someone in trouble, Jesse was sure, and he'd already fixated on this target.

But he'd let him go if he was cornered somehow…

Maybe Jesse could still win that bet…

Before he could talk himself out of it, or any more into it, Jesse moved swiftly towards the pair.

"I have another ID too, if you'd just _let me_-"

"Another fake one," the guard declared. "I'm sure. Come on. We're done talking about this."

"No! We're not! I have to just finish a few things-"

"Kid, if you keep going, I can arrest you for being insubordinate, do you understand that?"

Time to step in.

"There you are," Jesse called out, moving fast forward towards them.

Both had lifted their heads and turned to stare at them, Carson twitching when he saw who it was, a look of mingled disgust, horror, and resignation passing over his features.

"We're late for rehearsal! It's not canceled anymore, and we need you to stand in!"

"Wait…so, he does go here?"

"Of course he does," Jesse snapped. "And we can't start without him. So if you'll excuse us."

"Uh, sure."

Jesse grabbed Carson's elbow and started to drag him away, when-

"Wait! Let me see your ID then."

Jesse could hear the smirk in the other man's voice. He thought he'd just caught another one.

Well then.

"Sure," Jesse sighed out, making sure the impatience in his tone was near tangible.

He pulled out his ID, shoving it at the guard, and quietly tsk'ing as the man stared at it.

"It looks good," the officer said at last, handing it back to him. "Sorry I held you guys up. I guess I was seeing things."

"I guess you were too," Carson snapped from Jesse's side, and Jesse restrained a smirk.

Carson's snark was a lot funnier when you weren't the target.

Jesse dragged the other boy from the stadium, only letting him go when they reached the parking lot.

They stared at each other for a few moments before Carson sighed.

"Thank you," he said begrudgingly. "I guess even skeezeball liars have their uses. I did appreciate you putting your skills up for my benefit."

Jesse's mind was racing. He couldn't help finding this guy more than a little fascinating.

And he was obviously intelligent, too. If Jesse could be on his good side, he'd probably be a great ally. And, well, Jesse _had_ just rescued him…

"You owe me."

"What?" Carson was staring at him, eyes hard.

"You owe me," Jesse said again. "Now let's have a little chat. I know a quaint place nearby. Starbucks? Maybe you've heard of it. It's a coffee shop."

"I owe you what exactly?" Carson asked angrily.

"Just come on. I want to discuss our future together."

Carson gaped at him.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You owe me," Jesse reiterated simply. "I saved your ass. So I want you to help me with some stuff. How good are you at Math and Scientific? English and history? Outside of music, theatre, and show choir, that is. I have those down."

Carson looked to be at a complete loss.

"Obviously better than you are," he muttered.

Jesse smiled.

"Great! Let's go. I'll drive."

"…fine. Whatever."

Jesse smirked and led the other boy to his car, sending a quick text before he got in.

**To: Ames, Naomi (_3102551613_)**

Going out with Carson. Tell your boyfriend he owes me fifty dollars.

_~Stars aren't just born they're created~_

* * *

><p><em>AN- Every time someone reviews Carson fondles Jesse to get back his tape deck. Of course Jesse keeps stealing it...these boys. ;)_


	2. Chapter 2 Caffienated Egos

**In An Instant**

Chapter 2: Caffeinated Egos

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

_**WORD COUNT: 6300**_

* * *

><p>"You know, there's no need to stare at me so hard. If I haven't exploded yet, I don't think I will be at all."<p>

Carson scowled, slouching in his chair at their table, eyes moving to the lid of his still steaming coffee.

"You never know. They say if you want something enough…"

"Well, if that were true you and I would be having a threesome in my dorm right now with either Rosario Dawson or Zac Effron. He was only okay as Link in Hairspray, and fell short of Matt Morrison in the Broadway version, but you can just tell he knows how to use his mouth and he's got a nice amount of weight in the industry right now. Rosario is self-explanatory. You know, on second thought, while I'm wanting things, I say make that an orgy, and throw in Idina Menzel for good measure. Her talent is off the charts, as is her sex appeal. My last show choir coach actually looked a lot like her and had a similar voice. When we had sex it was almost as if it was half with Shelby and half with Idina. That was a good night."

Carson pressed his fingertips to his temples halfway through this speech, then moved to curl his hand tautly about his coffee cup and take a sip. He choked a bit on the scalding liquid at the last part of Jesse's diatribe, the black coffee burning his tongue and throat, but used the sensation to distract himself from the images the ego across from him had conjured up, and the confusion when the images were both completely disgusting and maybe the tiniest bit erotic. He didn't need any more on his plate right now.

"No. Stop. Look, okay, I honestly don't care who you want to have sex with, and I don't want to hear about it, unless you'll let me use it for my article, in which case I'd need my recorder out, and some earplugs so that I can avoid constantly throwing up. More importantly, you exploding isn't impossible, but the two of us ever screwing is. Now, can we get back to the original subject please?"

Jesse slid back languidly in his chair, lounging handsomely as he sipped some sort of complicated Frappuccino that he'd taken forever to order.

"Fine. I wanted to work out a deal between us."

"You can't pay to have sex with me."

Jesse laughed.

"Oh, that's cute. I actually thought you might have a low self-esteem earlier, but you're estimating your worth a little high now. You're nowhere near hot enough or talented enough for me to pay for you to do anything. No, I want to use your mind."

Carson gritted his teeth.

"You better be fucking with me right now."

"If I was, you'd be screaming in ecstasy," Jesse replied with a smirk. "Look, I need some help with my classes at UCLA, like I said earlier. I don't see how they expect me to focus on so many things outside of my music and acting work. Like scientific- who needs that? And history? If I'm not acting in a period piece, where the history would actually be given to me, then what's the point?"

"How on Earth did you get through high school?" Carson asked, gaping at him, irritation and confusion creasing his forehead. This guy was so up his own ass…

Jesse waved a hand dismissively, taking another nonchalant sip of his drink.

"The school had someone do the work for me. Our rehearsals were murder. Couldn't focus on anything else if we didn't want to lose."

Carson frowned, scrutinizing Jesse carefully before withdrawing his recorder. He had an idea.

"Go on and I'll do it," he said placing his tape deck in the center of the table and taking a careless sip of his own drink, barely noticing the burn of it sidling down his throat and moving into his chest to set up camp.

Jesse eyed the recorder for a split second before his smirk unfurled across the plane of his face.

"Sounds like a plan. And no backing out since it's caught on tape."

Carson nodded determinedly, resigned to exactly that, if only for now. He'd most likely come up with an escape for himself later, and vaguely rooted through their verbal contract for the inevitable loopholes.

"Fine."

* * *

><p>"You left. You said you wouldn't and you did. The door is staying locked."<p>

"Okay, what is this really about?" Jesse sighed through the door. "Are you PMS-ing or something? Should I be getting tampons for you from your girlfriend?"

"Shut up," Lucas' voice came muffled through the door. "Or I'll prove to you my inability to pms by shoving my dick so far up your stupid ass-"

"Well I do like it rough," Jesse mused to the door, which gave back a thud as something was thrown at it. "Come on, Lucas. Open the door."

Silence.

Jesse rolled his eyes against the door's wood, halfway through falling forward as the door abruptly jerked open from beneath him so that he was now rolling his eyes against the floor.

"Ow," he told the carpet blandly.

"So," Lucas sneered from above. "How was your date?"

"You sound like a jealous girlfriend," Jesse informed him, sitting up. "And it was good, actually. I got quite a bit out of it."

"So you had sex."

"Only if you mean with eyes instead of dirty parts," Jesse shrugged. Lucas smirked.

"So, I was right. Good."

"You were half-right," Jesse corrected his roommate. "Not that it matters all that much. When I see him again-"

"You're seeing him again," Lucas interrupted, looking irritated. "Jesse, he's a toddler. He's jailbait."

"He wouldn't give it up anyway," Jesse laughed. "He's just giving me something in exchange for me helping him out."

"Gross," Lucas retorted.

"Maybe," Jesse said nonchalantly. "But at least I'll be getting some good grades out of it."

He grabbed the trophy Lucas had thrown at the door and pulled himself up, ambling over to his bed.

"You need to get over the jealous girlfriend bit, Luke."

"What do you mean good grades?"

"Carson's my new study buddy," Jesse grinned, flopping onto his bed.

Lucas sighed.

"Whatever. I'm going out then. Naomi's having one of her naked cooking nights and I don't feel like sticking around here when I could be sticking around over there. Have fun jizzing over your new boy toy."

Jesse smirked.

"Oh, I will."

Lucas sneered and slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

><p>"Are you actually telling me that you don't remember who fought in the American Revolution?"<p>

Jesse waved the question off.

"There was an Asian guy who took all of that for me."

"Right," Carson said shortly. "I remember that from your interview. The level of corruption in our educational system is still just a bit hard to swallow. So, what are the essay's guidelines?"

* * *

><p>"You're not serious."<p>

Carson picked up the pillow from next to him and pressed it against his face, groaning into the fabric.

"I'm always serious, Andrew. Things like that are too painful to joke about."

Carson's older cousin, Andrew, guffawed.

"Whatever you say, C-man. You know, you don't owe this guy anything."

Carson shrugged.

"Actually, I do. He got me out of trouble and gave me an interview that I think will be useful. But it's not about that. This is typical college-level work in required college courses, Drew. If I can do this…I don't know. It's a challenge. It's like I'm finally getting to really prove what I can do. I've always been sure that I'll be able to handle university work, but that was all in theory. This is in practice. It's an opportunity- I can't not take it. Besides, my asshole-tolerance has gotten a lot bigger knowing him."

Andrew nodded, then grinned.

"Yeah, okay, I get that. Though, you know, if you wanted to do that you could just have done some of my work. Hell, I'd still be down with that."

Carson smiled slightly.

"Nice try."

"Hey, I'm serious!"

"And I'm not? Didn't we just go over that?" Carson joked and Andrew beamed, socking him lightly in the arm.

"Ah, fine. I'm just saying; the option's always there for you, C-man."

"Oh, I believe that," Carson acknowledged with a laugh. "But I'd never rob you of the chance to actually do the work and earn your degree when I believe you're capable of succeeding. This guy's head is way too full of shit and hot air. I'll stop after a while; the arrangement's not for forever. But at least the person whose work I'm doing is an idiot and can't do it on his own. It's like…charity," Carson finished with a small smirk.

Andrew snorted loudly.

"Oh my God. Carson, man, go home."

"I am, I am," Carson replied, yawning as he stood. "When's your date with Sarah again?"

"In an hour or so," Andrew informed him, standing as well. "But if I'm not there early, Amy will somehow sneak in and cockblock me, like always."

"You people are so freaking sex obsessed," Carson muttered, pulling on his jacket. "It's ridiculous. I think Amy still even has cockblock down as her name on facebook."

"Hey, it's not a bad thing to use your hormones every once in a while," Andrew shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. "It's actually pretty fucking nice. But speaking of facebook- let me just say one more time how sorry I am? I was an idiot, C. It's been good to see you again. And actually talk."

"Yeah. You were an idiot. But, whatever, right? The past's the past. I don't really want to talk about it anymore, though, okay?" Carson sighed. "Did I tell you that the way I met the guy was through him hitting on me? And I had to stick my hand down the front of his jeans."

Andrew choked on his own breath, another loud snort rolling out of his nostrils and grin reappearing.

"You did what now?"

"He stole my tapedeck!"

* * *

><p>Carson laughed into his coffee, setting it down quickly.<p>

"Please tell me you're kidding, St. James."

"I don't kid about cats," Jesse sniffed haughtily over the lid of his latte, before throwing Carson a smirk. "Unless they're pussy cats."

Carson rolled his eyes.

"I'm not surprised. Being a cat-lover fits right into your prissy stereotype."

"Prissy? Please. I love getting down and dirty."

"Jesse," Carson paused, then sighed. "Back to your paper."

Jesse nodded, leaning back in his chair.

"I think I actually did well!"

"Right," Carson said slowly. "In high school…I actually think you could have gotten an A on this. But that was high school, and you're at university. It's not that hard, but… how much did you really try on this?"

"Well I had to rehearse," Jesse informed him patiently.

Carson nodded.

"I figured it was between that and watch yourself in the mirror."

"Oh, it's both, actually. One of the best ways to rehearse initially is in front of a mirror. Then a camera. It was actually the chosen method of rehearsal for famous-"

"St. James! Listen to me- I can't do all of your assignments, alright?"

"We had a deal," Jesse reminded Carson, pulling whipped cream from the inside pocket of his jacket and spraying it atop his latte.

"Right," Carson said slowly. "That's true. But I'm just helping you out and doing a portion of the overall work. You've still got to do some of this, and know concepts for any tests... It's a miracle you have yet to fail out."

"Fail out," Jesse repeated. "People like me don't fail out."

"People like you are the vast percentage of those failing out," Carson retorted.

Jesse smiled and lifted his notebook, once more showing off the cat drawing inside.

"Not when I have talent like this."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Carson groaned, laughing slightly. "I have to go soon, St. James. I have school."

Carson took another short drink of his coffee, and Jesse swigged at his latte simultaneously, dark grey eyes focused on his drawing.

"Will you watch me rehearse for an audition tomorrow?"

"I thought you had theatre covered," Carson replied, tracing his gaze over the tabletop.

"Maybe you can write about it," Jesse smirked, grinning smarmily at Carson, who sighed, choking back another laugh.

"Maybe. I really do have to go though. Right. Where are we meeting tomorrow?"

"My bedroom?"

"Really," Carson said drolly as he stood, very clearly unimpressed. "I thought we were past this."

Jesse shrugged, standing as well. "Figured it was worth a shot," he mused back.

Carson shook his head, eyes turning serious.

"You missed. Just like every time before. Maybe it's time to stop taking shots at me? You're not my type."

"You know, I'm starting to think no-one's your type," Jesse said with a smile, tugging a few of his curls to one side then tossing his nearly empty latte cup into the trash as they left Starbucks. "Have you even ever had a crush?"

Carson frowned at him, back tightening reflexively.

"Can we please get back to the main topic?"

"You're good at that," Jesse said abruptly and Carson's frown deepened.

"Good at what?"

Jesse smirked again as he pushed open the door Carson had shut in his face.

"Oh, nothing."

Carson's frown became a scowl.

"So, tomorrow then, jackass?

"Tomorrow, Casper."

* * *

><p>Carson rubbed his eyes blearily as he stared at his computer screen.<p>

This wasn't working.

"So," he said aloud as he typed. "Education in our country…I give up."

He groaned in exasperation, standing quickly and stalking over to his bed, then beginning to pace beside it.

Sleep sounded so good, right now…he hadn't had any in almost three nights now as he tried to get everything done for his school, and all of Jesse's work, plus any of his own extra work. It was…a lot. Of course, Carson was used to getting little sleep with how much work he usually put into the paper, but this was actually significantly less than even that had been.

And he should be using that as an excuse to get out of his deal with St. James the giant talking ego, shouldn't he?

But for some reason he couldn't make himself do so. At least, he reminded himself, he was getting a good look at the type of work he'd be seeing in college.

Carson slammed down into his bed face first, heaving out a breath.

He had everything cover-

"Carson, what the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Carson rolled over and blinked up at his mom's angry expression, face screwing up in the bright light filling the room from his window.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

Sheryl Phillips looked unhappily at her son.

"You're supposed to be at school right now."

Carson bolted up and out of bed.

"Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Please tell me you're kidding," he muttered as he hastily yanked off his shirt.

"You couldn't have woken me up?" he asked his mom angrily, pulling on jeans as quickly as he could manage.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Why would I?"

And left.

Carson scowled at his desk, yanking up his zipper, as he muttered a sardonic, "Gee, thanks mom."

* * *

><p>"You're late."<p>

"I know. I'm sorry," Carson muttered, ducking into his US history AP class.

"Do you have your pass?"

The blue slip of paper was immediately handed over, and the teacher clucked over it once before leading him over to his desk.

"Well okay then. We're working in groups today so-"

"I'll work alone," Carson interrupted automatically, eyes darting to the side to comb over the kids in his class, a fair number of which were watching him guardedly or making obviously snide comments amongst themselves.

The teacher, Mr. Errants, shook his head, lips pursed.

"No you won't be. The groups are required, Carson. You're with Evan, Wyatt, Miles, and Jonathan over there."

Carson's lip curled.

"Please tell me you're kidding."

"I'm not. Now, if you'd been on time, I'd have let you at least choose your group, but since you chose to take your time coming to school, you'll just have to deal with what I've chosen for you."

"Yo, Mr. E, can we just reject him?" Wyatt asked, and a few people snickered, while others simply looked up at where Carson and Mr. Errants stood silently, watching.

"I'd technically be rejecting you, since I said something first," Carson tossed back.

"I don't want to write anyone up, but I won't hesitate to if this keeps going," Mr. Errants informed them and Carson scowled.

"I'd work better alone. I swear."

"Well, that's a shame then," Mr. Errants replied. "Alright everyone focus! There's twenty-five minutes left before this needs to be done!"

Carson groaned, pulling his backpack from his shoulder and making his way over to the group of guys in the corner, choosing to ignore the way Evan pushed the only empty desk in the cluster slightly further out from the rest of the group just before he arrived at it and sank down.

"Do I need to put my name on the sheet?"

"Oh no," Jonathan said with a smirk, brandishing the paper a bit, then pushing it over to him. "I already put it down for you."

"Right," Carson scowled. "And apparently the very simple spelling was just too much for you, then, I guess. I'm not surprised your brain couldn't handle it, of course. There is not an 'a' at the end of my name."

"Funny, that's not what facebook says."

"Wow- I don't know what I could possibly say to overcome that zinger. Care to actually tell me what we're supposed to be doing? Unlike you, I happen to care about my grade in here, and need to actually do the work for Mr. Errants to pass me."

"Why should we if you weren't paying attention?" Miles asked, elbowing Jonathan, who grinned.

"Yeah, if you aren't paying attention and actually helping, why should we go out of our way to help you keep a good grade?"

Carson allowed his eyes to fall shut a moment in exasperation.

He really hated doing group work…

"You know, I wouldn't do that if I were you. I am in charge of the school's paper. There's a reason it's called power of the press."

"We have a paper?"

"Nobody reads the paper."

"And nobody would care anyway."

Laughs.

Carson's scowl deepened.

"There's twenty-one minutes left," he hissed. "Can we just do the work?"

"I don't work with trannys," Jonathan announced from beside him and Carson rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Why? Worried you'll see yourself in them or something?"

"Shut up. I'm not a freak," Jonathan groused. "Except in bed. Tell me, do you even know what that means?"

"Virgin alert," Miles cooed to the side and Evan and Wyatt collapsed into snickers.

"Do you even know what education means?" Carson asked irritably. "Because I'm thinking no."

"He's a pod freak," Wyatt informed them, then Carson. "That's why you're all…asexual or whatever."

"Or maybe it's because everyone in this place sucks," Carson retorted. "Work. Now. Unlike the rest of you losers, I actually have things of value to do later."

"Just the newspaper," Wyatt muttered. "I bet you jack off to it."

"And I bet you jack off to each other," Carson said dully. "Do I have to ask the teacher for the assignment description?"

Right on cue Mr. Errants announced, "Less than twenty minutes left," from his desk.

"Catch!" An atlas was hurled at Carson's head, hitting him then falling to the desk with a smack.

"What was that, Miles?" Mr. Errants called out, glancing in their direction.

"I told Carson to catch the atlas we need and he didn't," Miles replied, and the teacher nodded.

"No more throwing things. Focus everyone! Carson, if you're going to have a bad attitude-"

"I'm sorry. I'll have to work on my masochistic desire to be hit in the face," Carson cut him off angrily.

"Or your athletic skill," the teacher suggested. "Though my point was more that if you were to put some effort in-"

"This is a load of crap," Carson murmured.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sir. I'd be doing the assignment already, but these guys just can't stop talking about the orgy they had with each other last night, and it's making me a little sick."

Laughter shuffled through the classroom, alighting briefly, then winked out in discomfort.

The teacher's nose wrinkled.

"Back to assignments everyone! Before I write this whole class up! If every one of those papers is not completed on time, I will! You have…sixteen minutes now. Hurry up!"

Carson turned back to his group irritably.

"Are we going to actually do this now?"

"Start is on 14A Carsona," Wyatt said snidely and Carson immediately flipped to the page, not bothering to acknowledge the assistance.

"Now what?"

"But we're on 15B," Jonathan added, and Carson flipped another page.

The class set worksheet for Group one was slid over, and Carson promptly found the section they were on.

"Number."

"13."

Carson nodded.

"Answer is depleted, as in your brain power is heavily depleted. Make of that what you will."

"You're such an asshole," Evan told Carson, and the others snorted their agreement, but every one of them wrote down the answer anyway.

* * *

><p>"Jesse St. James?"<p>

"Casper! Why are you calling me?"

Carson sighed into the phone.

"Look, I've had a really crap day and it's only half over, and I just needed to let you know that I don't think I can make it today. I'm sorry."

"Why?" Jesse asked. "I thought you were on board with our arrangement."

"Yeah, I am, okay? But I didn't finish all of your assignment last night like I thought I would."

There was a pause, then, "What happened?"

"Nothing, I just was stupid and let myself fall asleep, alright? I really didn't mean to. Now, I have to- fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Carson?"

"Hey! ID-boy!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Carson growled. "I can't catch a fucking break. Look, St. James, I've got to deal with a bunch of high thugs so…"

"Oh, sounds dramatic," Jesse observed, grin audible.

"Yes, I'm sure you'd love it," Carson huffed, and Jesse's grin widened.

"I'll see you later, then!"

"Whatever, I have to- wait, no, Jesse, that's wrong!"

But the line was already dead.

Carson groaned one more time, sliding his phone back into his pocket, just in time to be slammed back against the tree he'd been leaning against.

"Look, I'm busy right now, and I'd prefer not having tree bark inside my back, so…"

Jordan scoffed, and the one silent, hulking guy with him snorted.

"Right, kid. Listen, I've been thinking-"

"Really? I didn't know you could do that!"

"Favor one."

Carson nodded resignedly.

"Right. Sure. What is it?"

"First, a question: You're asexual right? Like, you don't care about sex?"

Carson rolled his eyes.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "Why?"

"That's for me to know," Jordan replied, and Carson sighed.

"Of course it is. What do you want?"

"I'm failing school, and so is my brother."

"…What?"

"You're really smart, right? So, I need you to do my work. And at least some of Dwayne's too. Got me?"

Carson slumped slightly.

"Please tell me you're kidding…" he said unhappily, and the other's grip on his arm tightened. His lackey shifted behind him, withdrawing his lit cigarette a minute and pointing it vaguely in Carson's direction.

"No. I'm not. Look, would you rather have to go to the hospital, brain?"

"Maybe," Carson mused, then shook his head, eyes on the cigarette still. "I'll do it, I guess. Fine. I need schedules and notes, though."

"Yeah," Jordan grinned. "Take it all man. You know, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

Carson narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Yeah…sure…"

An entire backpack was shoved into Carson's hands, with only a few things removed quickly and stuffed into Jordan's pockets. The cigarette was dropped, stomped out, and replaced.

"I want that back by the way," the senior said, nodding at the backpack. "Tomorrow morning. Beneath the bleachers."

Carson nodded wearily.

"Why not?"

"Great. Now, go run off to wherever the outcasts eat lunch or whatever. See you later, man."

The pair ambled away, both smoking now, as they headed to their usual spot, and Carson rubbed his eyes again before hoisting up the new backpack and looping it over his shoulder with his own.

And it was just the start of their hour long lunch period.

Carson headed for the school's library.

He had too much work to be eating right now anyway.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, do you know where I could find Carson Phillips?"<p>

A series of faces wrinkled.

"Who?" a girl asked, and another whispered something in her ear.

One of the boys in the group surveyed Jesse a moment, brow furrowed.

"What are you looking for him for?"

"He and I have some business to attend to," Jesse informed them seriously. "And I have to give him a few notes from my classes. Well, actually, a recorder. I prefer not to take notes, but Casper's really into it, so we compromised. You know where he is, then?"

"Most everyone here tries to avoid looking at him whenever possible," another girl spoke up, and Jesse cocked his head to the side.

"So you don't know where he is then?"

"Yeah, no…"

"Well, then that's a lot of time we just wasted," Jesse observed, before turning heel and moving forward, smirking vaguely when one of the assholes he'd just spoken with called that exact word after him.

If he were Carson, where would he be?

Well, Carson had said it was a shitty day, so the stage was…

But no, because for some reason Carson didn't seem as fond of performing as Jesse. Which was cool. Not everyone could be as blatantly talented as he was.

Jesse moved toward another larger group this time that looked around Carson's age.

"I'm Jesse St. James. Remember that name, alright?"

The group as a whole turned slowly towards him, several eyebrows scrunching together.

"What?" One girl asked, frowning. "Are you trying to ask one of us out or something?"

"Oh no," Jesse said, shaking his head quickly. "Sorry ladies and gentleman," he winked, "but you're a bit too young and immature for me. I'm a college student. At UCLA. Which is in LA. I'm trying to find Carson Phillips."

The girl's eyes widened and several in the cluster exchanged looks.

"…who?"

"You don't know who he is?" Jesse asked with a frown. "He's in charge of your school newspaper? You know, when I was in school, I knew everybody. Except for the ugly, untalented kids that no one liked. And I even talked to a few of them. Sob stories are always useful."

"No, we don't know who he is. We do know who Carsona is," one boy with flat ironed sandy hair and a smug chin announced.

Laughter immediately filtered through the group, loud and spiteful.

"Well, I'm looking for Carson," Jesse said, pronouncing slowly so that the morons would definitely understand. "He said he was having a crappy day, and I can't have him feeling like shit all the time when he's the one doing my work. Not to mention that he was pretty much my only plan for today other than performing an impromptu concert at some point."

"What is the loser doing talking to a hot college student?" a girl spoke up, and the girl next to her nodded.

"Bethany's right. That's just weird. I bet Carson just hired him to try to prove to everyone that he doesn't have no friends.

"Please, he's so desperate that he's friends with the cousin who hacked his facebook again. I mean, that Drew guy was hilarious, but if my cousin did that I'd never talk to them again."

"Yeah, but you're actually cool," a boy said, and she smirked, leaning against his chest.

"I actually think that Drew is why Carson has a formspring too," she giggled. "Which we all know is useful."

"Oh man, do you remember the status, Beth? 'I'm not going to kill myself! I'm not a girl! Please shut up! I've got to go work.' I'm a loser with no life and a lot of delusions."

Jesse stared at them, brows up, unintentionally mimicking Carson's own expression of surprise.

What the hell?

"Can you idiots tell me where Carson is or not? I really do need to find him."

"He's probably in the library making out with books," the girl next to Bethany said, rolling her eyes. "Since that's the only place he'll ever get some."

"Actually," Jesse said loudly. "Carson and I slept together last week. We had a threesome with my roommate's girlfriend, Naomi."

"…What?"

"It's okay, though. Lucas and Naomi's relationship status is open, still. Just like her legs were when Casper screwed her. She was so turned on by his whole smart thing. I'd be jealous, but I was too. Casper's hot as hell, and his brain power and my star power working together had Naomi in a constant state of orgasm. She said it was the most powerful experience of her life."

Jesse turned heel again and left the kids gaping as he made his way toward the library, taking a sip of his coffee when he spotted Carson, then shifting so that the coffee he'd brought for Carson was the outermost one in his hold.

Smirking, he went to the table and slid it over to Carson, who looked up, eyes widening and brow furrowing.

Jesse grinned.

"I bought us both coffee. The kids here all suck and you're so much better than them."

"Jesse. What are you…?"

"I'm here to hugely improve your shit day," Jesse said plainly as he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and withdrawing two packets of sweet n' low.

"And because my grades are in your hands, and I am smart enough to know to keep the guy doing my work happy."

Carson chuckled grimly.

"Right. Sure. Okay, since you're here, I did just finish editing this essay, and there are some parts rewritten. I'm sure you want more done, but in case not or you need it now…"

Jesse took the paper and glanced it over before nodding and folding it, then stowing it swiftly in another of his large pockets, gaze turning back to Carson who was focused once more on the paper in front of him, rubbing at his eyes hard every few seconds.

Jesse watched a few moments, amused, then cleared his throat loudly. Carson drew his attention slowly back towards Jesse.

"Yes?"

"Sorry, Cas, but you're not hot enough to make me able to watch you read and not get bored."

"It's called working."

"It's called coffee. Drink it. I made it, so it's amazing."

Carson's lip quirked slightly, though his eyes and shaking head remained unimpressed.

"You said you bought it."

Jesse nodded emphatically.

"Exactly. And what I touch turns to gold. Do I need to show you my collection of trophies? They're in my dorm near my bed. Except for the one that's always with me. Drink your gold, Carson."

Carson rolled his eyes, but laughed anyway, and, reluctantly, took a sip.

A beat. Then:

"This tastes like crap, Jesse. What did you put in this?"

"Awesomeness."

"And awesomeness would be called…?"

"Whipped cream, sweet n' low, and sprinkles," Jesse informed him seriously. "With a dash of melted peppermint. Good for the vocals."

Carson pushed the "coffee" away with a look of horror.

"Jesse, I like my coffee black. One grain of sugar at most."

"And I like scaring you. It's fun. Actually, though, that was my coffee. This was yours. Enjoy my saliva? That actually does taste like gold. Wanna see?"

The bell rang and Carson smirked.

"Actually, I've got to go. Have fun with your coffee. Hopefully you enjoy my own secret ingredients. Also, good luck finding your way out."

"Oh no," Jesse replied with a grin, shoving the coffee back towards Carson like a chess piece. "I'm staying right here for you. This is a library. I'm sure it has a music section and piano. Prepare to be serenaded."

Carson scoffed, but hurried away.

He figured no-one stupid and egotistical enough to think they could get away with doing something like that.

But Jesse was always surprising him.

* * *

><p><em>AN- Reviews make Carson happy, and Carson happy looks an awful lot like Chris happy... and both of them happy has the ability to turn all war zones into fields of rainbow and benevolent snark. Jesse St. James will bitch out dumb bullies and continue to seduce Carson, too. Also, Hogwarts becomes real. _


	3. Chapter 3 Social Networking For Dummies

**In An Instant**

Chapter 3: Social Networking for Dummies

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

_**WORD COUNT: 4377  
><strong>_

* * *

><p>Jesse St. James was probably as far from boring as it got.<p>

He was, after all, a natural born star.

Which was why he wasn't surprised when the melodrama he so loved caught up with him a bit, and he found himself in Seth's car being driven back from Carson's school, the security guards still glaring bewilderingly as the rundown, patched together convertible chugged out of sight.

"Jesse, did you hear me?"

"Not in the least," Jesse replied vaguely and he felt Seth shift beside him.

"I asked why you were at that school…"

Jesse ignored him again, deciding instead to scroll through his iPod.

"I probably should have gone with something more classic… I think Metro Station's 'Shake It' was probably just too progressive and risqué for a small town library. Though they really should have been more appreciative. That place needed more music. And they could probably all use some sex. If they'd just listened to the message of the song…"

Seth sighed softly beside him.

"It's definitely too risqué, Jesse. Although I'm sure your cover was miles better than the original."

"Oh, it was," Jesse nodded, not looking up from his iPod's screen. "I'm pretty sure the librarian who called campus security only did so under the strain of the massive wave of jealousy my star power invoked in her."

"Good vocabulary word…"

"Word-of-the-Day toilet paper. I bought it after I met Carson. I'm pretty sure he'd be impressed."

Seth glanced at him from the side of his eye.

"Carson?"

"He's my new study buddy, and my soul mate. Just hasn't realized it yet. We're playing things very Kat Stratford and Patrick Verona. "

Seth's jaw jumped.

"He's your soul mate…"

"Without a doubt. We're meant for each other. Like Dolly and Horace, or Ron and Hermione."

Seth swallowed hard, and Jesse scrunched together his eyebrows two or three times in the mirror, vaguely watching the way the motion contorted his face.

"But you slept with me."

Jesse scoffed, now trying on various smiles.

"Seth, come on, it's been ages since the night we fucked."

"It's not even a month and a half," Seth said quietly.

The car was slowing, and people behind them were definitely getting pissed.

Jesse sighed and shut the mirror.

"Seth… You're straight."

"I had sex with a guy," Seth replied angrily and the car swerved sharply into the next lane, to the sound of five different horrified honks.

"You had sex with me, though," Jesse said patiently. "I'm such a sex god that preferences stop existing when you're with me. Also, you were drunk. Didn't we talk about this?"

"You called me back, and we've kept talking," Seth said definitively, shaking his head and the car with it.

Jesse sat all the way up, slowly.

"As exciting and dramatic as a car crash would be, I'd prefer to not attain fame only posthumously. I want to be able to soak it up, like the sun I am. Pull over, Seth. There's a Macy's over there."

"Macy's sucks, and I don't want to. We have to get back."

"I thought you wanted to be gay," Jesse muttered, and Seth turned sharply into the exit lane, cutting off at least three cars, and receiving at least six middle fingers in his direction.

"Wouldn't want America to lose its biggest star," he muttered only half-sarcastically, and Jesse nodded in agreement.

"And I need to pop Carson's cherry, as well as be in at least three major films before that can happen. Just enough to get myself an E True Hollywood memorial."

Seth scowled and swerved again in his lane.

"Why do you want some prudish kid?"

Jesse smirked.

"He's not really a prude. Just uptight. But I suspect once he lets go he'll be wild as fuck. And his ass is pretty amazing. And arms…"

"My ass is amazing…" Seth muttered to the steering wheel. "Or pretty good at least…"

Jesse chortled, brushing at his hair.

"Carson is a star, too. Even if he doesn't want to be one. Not like my kind of star, of course, since only I can be that, and he hates performing apparently. But still. He's unexpectedly fascinating for a non-performer."

Seth glowered at him, and slammed on the brakes when he almost hit a car as he entered the parking lot.

"You know that's just your insatiable sex-drive talking," he said with a quiet sureness. "And your ego, however justifiable it is. Once you devirginize him, he'll be nothing. He wouldn't be anything in the first place if you guys had just paid attention at the shoot instead of making stupid bets."

Jesse shrugged.

"Maybe it is. He's certainly dramatic enough in his own way though. Whatever happens- I live a showbiz life."

"So you agree you aren't soul-mates?"

Jesse grinned.

"I guess we'll find out."

Seth sighed again and pulled into a parking spot.

Then turned to stare deeply and determinedly into Jesse's eyes.

"I can make you forget. And then you won't care enough to find out, will you?"

He leaned in.

* * *

><p>"Jesse! Boy! What the hell? You refused sex?"<p>

"Hi Naomi," Jesse said blandly, not bothering to look up from his facebook chat with an apparently annoyed Carson.

"In a car, in a parking light, in broad daylight. You refused sex. You. This is ridiculous! I mean, I know it was Seth and he's straight and weirdly obsessed and co-dependent with you, so the sex would be totally creepy sober, but it's still sex! And now Lucas is pissed on Seth's behalf!"

Jesse laughed and typed something into the chat, then turned in his chair to give her a shrug.

"Look, Naomi, this is a classic reaction of jealous revenge. I'm not surprised he's dragged Lucas into this. But I'm in the middle of talking to Carson, so…"

Naomi frowned at him.

"How close are you to getting into this kids' pants?"

Jesse simply shrugged again.

"I'm Jesse St. James," he said, when Naomi continued to give him a searching look, and she laughed.

"Okay, okay. Are you at least passing now?"

"Starting to," Jesse grinned. "Carson's some kind of genius. I can never let him out of this deal. It's too perfect, on every level."

"Okay," Naomi shrugged. "I am kinda curious how long this lasts, actually. It's my extra credit for my psych class downtown. Everyone there loves you, by the way. Narcissists are a general crowd-pleaser, as long as they're not there in person. But I'm horny now, so I'm gonna go grab Lucas and head to Dippin' Dots. Have fun with your pre-schooler, J."

"We're meeting at Starbucks tomorrow," Jesse said triumphantly to the empty doorway. "I think I might honestly like this guy… and sex with him even more."

He laughed and leaned back in his chair, humming the opening bars of 'Written in the Stars' from Aida.

In the hallway, another curly head bowed then pounded once fast forward into the wall.

Jesse just didn't realize, did he?

Seth was so much more perfect for him.

They were both stars. Actual stars.

At least… Jesse was. And when Seth was with Jesse, Jesse made him one too.

No-one was taking that. He'd just have to be cruel to be kind.

Seth scowled at the wall.

See? He could make random 'Ten Things I Hate About You' references too. He didn't like vaginas anymore, did he? He'd told them.

He liked Jesse. As more than a friend or role model. He had to to be a star. One more time his head hit the wall, then he came away from it teeth gritted.

He'd do whatever it took to be important. He could play dirty.

Jesse might even like it.

And Seth would just apologize after. Once he was a star, and perfect, and Jesse realized they were the soul-mates, not him and this Carson kid.

He could do it.

It'd be worth it.

Jesse was his golden ticket, his fairy dust to fly.

Seth headed toward Lucas's room.

Fanning the flames never hurt anyone, did it? And real stars did it all the time, especially Jesse St. James. If Seth wanted to succeed, that was exactly what he'd do, too.

* * *

><p>"Jesse, why is your phone out?" Carson asked with an amused, but exasperated glance at the other.<p>

"Facebook," Jesse retorted. "I'm checking us in."

Carson's brow furrowed.

"We are not going to a hotel after this."

Jesse smirked.

"At Starbucks, not a hotel, though it's nice to know where your head is at."

Carson's eyes narrowed briefly, then moved back to the binder in front of him.

"It's good to know yours is as up your own ass as always," he retorted vaguely. "And that if anyone wants to find you and commit murder they'll have a nice road map laid out for them to find not one, but two potential victims."

"Or all my fans will get jealous and come after you," Jesse said just as easily, and Carson raised a brow at the stack of papers, not bothering to look up.

"Your Mommy and Daddy who always said how special you are don't count as fans here, Jesse."

"Ooh, bringing out the big guns, Casper?" Jesse grinned. "Cause if we're doing that I happen to have a big gun that really wants to come out."

"What an original and unexpected allusion to your penis," Carson said dryly. "Jesse, how many times have we been over that periods and commas aren't the same thing? This is atrocious. And you can barely see through all the red I've had to put on it."

Jesse turned an exasperated expression on him and Carson's eyebrows furrowed again at the strange role-change between them. Exasperation was supposed to be his thing.

"You need to learn to play along, Casper. You're so dull. Where's all the excitement?"

"You want to get excited?" Carson asked quietly, leaning forward.

Jesse's eyes blazed at him.

"Now we're getting somewhere…"

"Maybe you should try rubbing your personal-white out on this awful fucking paper, and get excited about fixing it to get yourself that big, fat, juicy B+," Carson finished, with an oddly stern nod compared to his innuendo-laden tone in Jesse's direction, and Jesse gave him a truculent glare, which melted back to the usual smirk.

"Now, I really see where your head is."

"Oh yeah? So, you're also seeing your head exploding right now?"

"Exploding in orgasm, you bet."

Carson raised a brow, clearly unimpressed.

"Fix this, okay? I've got to get home. I have other things to work on. We'll meet again tomorrow during my lunch break, but _not_ at my school this time! Off campus! And I'll expect a completed rewrite of this paper, plus notes from the classes you have tomorrow."

Jesse gave a cheeky grin.

"Yes, sir."

Carson just rolled his eyes with some barely-concealed affection. Jesse saw right through it and grinned.

They walked out side by side.

* * *

><p>"Did you get my work done?"<p>

Carson nodded once hard, gritting his teeth at the feeling of fence digging into his back, an unwelcome change from that of bark.

"About that."

Jordan's eyes narrowed.

"What about that?"

"I did it," Carson said irritably. "It's done. But I don't really want to give it to you."

"Excuse me," Jordan hissed. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

* * *

><p>"Ooh, what's with the latest battle scar?"<p>

"I'm at war with a few drug lords," Carson replied nonchalantly, slinging his backpack over the back of the chair and eying the starbucks cup sitting in his spot, steam still rolling out of the vented lid, with no small amount of suspicion.

"If my own life weren't so amazing, I would completely envy the drama in yours," Jesse commented drolly, a little smirk still twisting at his lower lip before dropping off as much as it seemed it could. "But, seriously, you look like Tony did at the end of West Side Story."

Carson paid him no mind, beginning to pull out papers and his collection of red pens, regular pens, and highlighters.

"Tony's killed at the end of West Side Story."

Jesse sat up quickly straight, and moved forward, looking pleased.

"You know Broadway?"

"Honestly, Jesse, I didn't think I could judge you any more…"

Jesse's eyes narrowed in return, and his expression became more haughty than usual.

"Unless that is you've only seen the movie version. In which case, not only do you suck in a different way than the one I really like, but you also need an intervention pronto."

Carson snorted and rolled his eyes, taking another sip at his coffee.

"I haven't seen either, actually. It's called reading. And common knowledge."

Jesse crossed his arms.

"You're seeing it with me."

"As great as that offer is, I'm going with no."

His smirk became a cheshire grin.

"Your denial is unexpectedly adorable, Casper. We're going. Don't worry. Now, what's the story?"

Carson rolled his eyes over the lid of his coffee and tipped some of the scalding liquid into his mouth.

"Has anyone ever told you you're more than a little obsessive?"

"You tell me or I'll spend the next hour talking about how hot the bruising on the side of your face is and what exactly it makes me want to do to you," Jesse smiled. "And yes."

Carson twitched.

"We wouldn't want that…"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure both of us want it, just a little," Jesse smirked, spraying more whipped cream onto his coffee and then licking at the top of it with a wink. "But story first."

Carson laughed, flipping open a book instead.

"I already told you. I pissed off the local teen drug cartel/mafia at school by not being the dimwitted doormat they were hoping for. So they threw me into a fence and I got them suspended for recorded damage of school property. I finished rewriting your essay last night, by the way. Do you have your notes?"

Jesse's eyes gleamed, single-handedly sliding his phone back to his pocket.

"Tony?"

Carson gave him a hard look.

"My name is Carson, and you aren't pretty, witty, or gay, so pull your eyes out of the Broadway smog, St. James. Notes?"

"You're right," Jesse sighed. "You're not Tony. You're Kat Stratford."

Carson's head fell against his book with a thud and he gave Jesse probably the steamiest glower ever that could somehow be cute as well.

"Unless this Kat Stratford had a penis and no breasts, I doubt I could pass as her."

"Well, she did have a pretty flat chest…" Jesse mused. "And hey- how do I know you're not hiding a pussy? Come on, Casper. Whip it out! Unless you're secretly vaginal?"

Jesse's smirk had taken over his entire face.

"Stop talking."

"There are bushes outside where you could prove your manhood, you know? And I mean that both literally and metaphorically."

Jesse licked more whipped cream off his coffee and Carson closed his eyes a moment, listening to Jesse's phone beeping again and Jesse typing into it.

"Jesse, notes."

"Let me finish first," Jesse said distractedly. "This is becoming highly amusing."

Carson scowled and snatched the phone from across the table.

"And now it's gone. Look over my revisions, at least, St. James. You can have it back when you're done. But I have school, and I've got to be getting back soon. So- work!"

Jesse licked his lips, eyes doing that weird focus thing Jesse said he'd gotten from show choir.

"I love it when you get like this," he observed, his hand moving slowly forward to take the papers, and Carson rolled his eyes, one catching on the still lit screen of Jesse's phone.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Jesse," he half-laughed, half-groaned. "You're still commenting on that stupid post? I hope you know that all of you are being beyond ridiculous. Oh God- You're still trying to pull my cousin Amy into threesomes with your friends, aren't you? Jesse…"

Jesse flashed him a grin.

"Only because I want you all to myself."

Carson raised an eyebrow with stern amusement.

"Notes."

* * *

><p>"Honey, I'm home! …Lucas… open up."<p>

"Not happening, St. James!"

"Sorry Jesse!"

Jesse frowned. The first was Lucas, but the second was definitely…

"Seth?" he asked through the door. "Don't tell me you're trying to make yourself fall in love with Lucas now. I mean, I'm one thing, but Lucas isn't desirable enough or enough of a star to warrant-"

"Are you jealous?" Seth asked, and Jesse winced at the excitement tangible in his voice.

"Actually, Seth, now that I think about it, Luth Millmont is a fantastic portmanteau, and your story is really almost as romantic as that of Mimi and Roger from Rent, though still far behind Angel and Collins. Or perhaps you're more Tracy and Link… Lucas and you are absolutely the right people to turn each other gay and should start having sex now. I'll just go hang with Naomi or paint a cat mural or something. The stage might be empty right now, too. Bye! Have fun engaging in your chosen form of intercourse!"

"Jesse! There's no reason to feel held back," he heard Seth call out, along with fumbling at the lock. "Lucas may have just completely inadvertently taken your jail bait out of the running."

Jesse turned slowly from half-way down the hallway, a small part of him savoring the drama of the moment, though most of him just focused on getting back there and asking-

"…What are you talking about?"

"Seth," Lucas called from the bathroom. "Did you open the door? Fuck. You did, didn't you?"

"You know I can't keep Jesse locked out of his own room," Seth informed the door. "Besides, he thought we were having sex, but I'd only do that with him, so I didn't want him to get too jealous or upset for no reason."

"Seth," Lucas said angrily, the toilet flushing in the background, "We had a deal!"

Jesse scowled and moved towards the door, turning it hard twice to the right, before once to the left, so that it opened.

Lucas threw him a dirty look.

"I told you to stop doing that, didn't I? Bathroom doors get locked for a reason."

Jesse rolled his eyes.

"You have your pants on already, but I've seen your junk enough times before. It's not all that thrilling for me, Luke, honestly. What'd you say to Carson?"

Lucas shrugged, forgoing a towel and just shaking out his wet hands.

"What'd you say to the dude's classmates?"

Jesse's head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

"What?"

"You, Naomi, and your toddler had a threesome?"

Jesse grinned.

"It was pretty hot. You should've been there and helped us make it an orgy."

"Jesse," Lucas said tersely, "We may have already sorted that part out over facebook, but if you keep going, I won't stop myself from punching you."

"Matching bruises could be romantic," Jesse mused.

Lucas's eyes narrowed.

"I'm sure they would be, cradle-robber. Do you want to find out?"

"Violence against Jesse is completely unnecessary," Seth interrupted, reaching to place his hand over Jesse's.

Lucas leaned over to check his facebook and laughed.

"Especially when it looks like the kid is perfectly willing to do it instead."

Jesse pulled his hand loose from Seth's and moved toward the computer, raising an eyebrow when Lucas knocked the lid closed.

"We're officially good."

Lucas clapped him hard on the back, then retreated to his bed, Seth watching the exchange carefully, pleasure and pride already beginning to settle and tug up on his lips.

Jesse stared at him for a long moment, then: "What did you do? …Did you send him baked goods containing ipecac?"

"Unless this has suddenly become Days of Our Lives or The Sopranos or something, no."

"What about banana? Or walnuts? He's allergic to both of those. Though the worst allergy he said he has is peppermint. He said it's what gave him the idea to tell everyone that he was deathly allergic to Christmas when he was younger, but he regrets it now, since every winter he gets at least five candy canes stuffed in his locker every month until spring."

Seth's forehead was lined, his eyebrows scrunched together.

"How do you know all that?"

Jesse rolled his eyes.

"He told me, of course. If you're not sexting, you've got to be saying other stuff. Also, he had to go to the ER a couple nights ago because I gave him a sip of my coffee, which I'd put peppermint in. He yelled at me for postponing his work schedule. Carson's hot when he's angry and all anal about studying, but he's also pretty frightening. He's like Freddy Krueger minus the claws and psychopathy. Though you can just tell anger sex with him would be amazing… He can actually give Shelby a run for her money."

Seth's expression soured.

"You like when he's mad at you?"

Jesse paused, observing the others expression, then heaved a melodramatic sigh.

"I need to check facebook, don't I?"

Lucas's smugly pursed lips and stifled laughter paired with Seth's pupils dilating was beyond all the answer he needed.

Jesse pulled out his iPhone and went to its facebook app, anger flaring up at the sight of the first of two new comments on the post gone wild of him checking himself and Carson in at Starbucks.

**Lucas Durmont:** _I still don't get why you're doing any of this. I've never seen you waste so much time on someone before, or try so hard. Just so you know dude, the bet's already been won. You're not getting that 50 back, even if you do get in the kid's pants now. Long over due, my friend._

**October 24 at 6:25pm · Like**

And, below that, Carson had replied:

**Carson Phillips:** _A bet? Seriously, Jesse? How fantastically 80s romcom of you. Should I just give you the fifty and let you move on then? Must have been exhausting pretending to care so much._

**October 24 at 10:01pm · Like**

Jesse frowned at Carson's words, not liking what they suggested, but unable to summon any clue of how to respon-

Of course.

He'd do what he always did.

He'd blow it off.

After all, wasn't acting, especially acting cool, one of the many things Jesse St. James was best at?

* * *

><p><em>(A.N.<em>) _For every review, Jesse **will** say** exactly** what it is that he wants to do to Carson_... _Also, Seth will take driving lessons. _


	4. Chapter 4 Mightier Than the Sword

**In An Instant**

Chapter 4: Mightier Than the Sword

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

**WORD COUNT: 3446  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>to: Jesse St. James October 27th, 2011 6:49 pm<strong>_

_St. James-_

_I still want to continue with our deal, but I'm too busy to meet in person anymore, at least for now. You can send me your work by email (mine is Editor_CarsonPhillips on hotmail). On another note: Do you know how to upload and send the recordings of your lectures? If not, I suggest learning._

_-Carson._

_**to: Jesse St. James October 27th, 2011 6:55 pm**_

_On second thought, I'm fairly sure you're going to "get distracted rehearsing" and not do it, so here's a link that should help:_

_Transfer-Cassette-Tape-to-Computer on wikihow_

_And now you have no excuse to slack off. At all. For the last time, making faces at yourself in the mirror is not a more worthwhile pursuit than homework at all._

_-Carson._

_**to: Carson Phillips October 27th, 7:20 pm**_

_Could you get anymore hot? ;)_

_Also Casper I don't know that that will work for me… How about I buy you coffee and we can talk about it? I promise not to poison you this time. And I'll even bring sunglasses so that I can't get distracted by your unintentional eyesex._

_**to: Jesse St. James October 27th, 7:23 pm**_

_No. Go work._

_-Carson._

**_to: Carson Phillips October 27th, 7:25 pm_**

_You know you're going to miss the eye sex. Although the computer's getting a pretty good show over here… ;)_

_**to: Jesse St. James October 27th, 7:28 pm**_

_Work._

_**to: Carson Phillips October 27th, 7:29 pm**_

_Okay, babe, what is this really about?_

**_Carson Phillips__ is offline_**

* * *

><p>Jesse St. James shrugged a bit and Facebook-stalked one of Naomi's hot cousins for all of two minutes, then logged off and spun twice in his chair, licking his lips.<p>

It was clearly time to get more dramatic.

35 unanswered spammed calls to Carson's phone later, Jesse St. James reluctantly took to his email, and then, shoving up with all the melodrama he could muster, headed to the stage.

He needed to perform.

* * *

><p><strong>Star-Born_St. James on hotmail<br>**

Even his email reeked of narcissism.

Carson clicked open the message, attempting to squash the small seedlings of maybe-possibly-disappointment at it actually being in his email, and, apparently, just a series of attachments, instead of the expected egotistical jackass remark in return to his own reply via facebook. Which was all completely irrational and ridiculous, and he had to get to work, didn't he?

Carson double-clicked open the first attached file, and a laugh escaped him at the giant winking-emoticon that filled his screen.

That was much more Jesse St. James.

Realizing his thoughts, he rolled his eyes and shook his head once, hard, then opened the next attachment, which was fortunately an actual draft of an essay on Roman theatre traditions, and moved quickly to the review section of Microsoft Word, getting the highlighting tool ready to start with.

He scanned the title, and sighed, a small smirk playing at his lips.

Gladiator Sex on Stage by Jesse St. James

Carson highlighted it instantly, and left the notation, "If you didn't have me to change things like this, all of your teachers would be dead."

Then, after a pause, added:

"Thank me with coffee?"

He could probably get revenge better in person, anyway.

* * *

><p>"Carson Phillips!"<p>

"Here we go…"

Carson turned slowly in his seat to face Claire, who narrowed her eyes at him.

"Are you on drugs?"

Carson blinked.

"Yes. All the time. Coffee"

Claire's mouth fell ajar, and her eyes shot daggers.

"That's not what I meant."

"Well, I interpreted what you said in the literal sense," Carson retorted, eyes returning to the book in front of him. "There's a book called a dictionary you can read if that's too confusing for you."

Claire huffed and did a small, instinctive hair-flip that would have made Carson giggle if he were the sort to do so at all.

Instead, he just smirked amusedly down at his book.

Claire shifted her weight irritably and huffed again, very clearly so as to make it _very obvious_ how exhausting he was to put up with.

"If you weren't snorting cocaine powder or some other illicit substance to get over your pathetic life and lack of friends, then what is your excuse?"

"For what?" Carson asked blandly, and Claire gave a shiver of righteous indignation.

"For what?" she echoed him in quiet, blank outrage. "The meeting this morning that you missed, maybe? Hello! Not that we missed having you there or anything like that," she added hastily, casting him a glance in her periphery to gauge his reaction. "But your approval was required for a unilateral vote over our requested amendments to the dress code, and we actually needed to discuss the possibility of an article with you for the Chronicle, since we felt like being nice. Of course, I don't know why we bothered, since _you_ never are."

Carson calmly licked the tip of his finger and turned a page.

"Was I given the appropriate five days' notice that I needed to attend this meeting?"

Claire took a rattling breath through her nose.

"Excuse me?"

He looked up, with a small, smug tilt to his head, and raised a brow.

"Our contract. Do you not remember signing it?"

Claire pursed her lips tightly.

"Excuse me?" she repeated, and he nodded, reaching one-handed into his backpack and withdrawing a thick envelope, undoing the metal latch, and handing her a laminated sheaf of paper, all the while never looking up as he turned another page in his book with his free hand.

"There you go."

"I remember," she informed him tersely, taking the small stack of papers nonetheless. "But all that was stated was that you weren't going to attend meetings where your presence wasn't necessary and that we had to inform you ahead of time when you were."

Lick finger. Turn page. Silence.

Then, vaguely, "You really should learn to read the fine print."

She made a noise of tremendous affront and muttered another horrified, "Excuse me?", then, turning the page, a choking sound.

And:

"You have veto rights now?" she shrieked.

Carson smiled.

"I see you got to article B, section 2a. Right after the part about being informed of my presence's necessity five days in advance, isn't it?"

Claire slammed her purse against his shoulder, hissing "asshole", and he raised a brow, marking his place and standing.

"Isn't physical violence beneath our school's president?"

And with a nod, left her there.

Claire trembled a moment behind him, then clenched her jaw, eyes blazing.

She was, after all, the queen of the school for a reason. And screw Carson if he thought she owed him anything after all these years. That debt had been paid ages ago, and she was so past going easy on him.

Veto or no, loser-dictatorships weren't going to fly with the student body, and between the two of them she'd always have the popular vote. It was something they'd both made sure of.

* * *

><p>"You work too much. You shouldn't have to pop pills and coffee to deal with high school, you know?"<p>

Carson rolled his eyes, sighing.

"Andrew, it's just a headache- common ailment, easily alleviated. And coffee's been a necessity of mine since middle school, if not elementary, since I started half-way through fifth grade. A good necessity," Carson added, tossing back two Tylenol and swallowing them dry.

Andrew screwed up his face, watching.

"I don't actually know CPR," he informed Carson, a little actual concern seeping into his ironic tone. "Maybe go easy on the choking-hazards?"

"But I live for danger, Andrew," Carson replied dully, scratching through a word on his paper.

Andrew snorted.

"You won't even kill zombies with me!"

"Only because every time I kick your ass you throw a tantrum, and then pretend that it never happened. Besides- working."

"Exactly my point," Andrew exclaimed, completely ignoring the first part. "You work too much, C-man. C'mere. I'm sure I can teach you to be maybe a quarter as good as me."

"You're deranged, and should be studying."

"Brains! Brains are good! Yum!"

"I'm sure they're tasty when you don't have any…"

Andrew groaned.

"Whatever. Bathroom break!"

Carson ignored him as he stood, stretched, and left the room, but at the sound of the door shutting, his gaze slowly migrated upwards. He smirked.

Andrew reentered the living room seven minutes later, triumphant.

"Yo, C-man! Guess who's got your backpack and isn't giving it back until you blow up the undead with them? …What's that?"

Carson yawned, not looking up from his essay.

"What's what?"

"...What did you do to my game?"

Carson shook his head, glancing to the television screen.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Andrew crossed his arms.

"C-man, using your weird over-the-top intellect isn't allowed! This doesn't count! And how the hell did you get to level twenty? I was on fifteen, and have been playing for two months!"

Carson yawned again.

"You're bad at it, and I'm not. You have coffee right?"

"It's in a different language!"

"Respect for Finland," Carson responded brightly. "Coffee?"

"I'm telling Amy."

"She'll side with me. I tutored her to beat you in one of your stupid games a year ago for only twenty dollars a week. I'm getting uncaffeinated here. You won't like me when I'm uncaffeinated."

"That was you?"

"Coffee!"

"Yes sir, Artemis Fowl Hulk," Andrew muttered.

Carson grinned.

"While you do that, should I just go ahead and beat the game?"

* * *

><p>"Party tonight! You coming?"<p>

Jesse didn't even blink at the sight of Naomi and Lucas tangled in Lucas's bed, his roommate on the very verge of sleep, while his roommate's girlfriend stretched luxuriously beneath the sheets and smirked broadly at Jesse.

"I have a few potential hook ups already lined up for you if you want."

Jesse raised a brow, dropping down his bag.

"Any specifics?"

"This girl Joanne, and another named Mary. There's also a guy named Zach in my Studies class who might be up your alley. All the puns intended."

She winked, grinning.

Jesse paused, dropping onto his bed, then shook his head.

"Well, thanks but no thanks."

"Okay, what's with your slump?" Naomi asked, sitting up a little in bed, a sheet wrapping her chest.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're in a slump," Naomi informed him, almost sternly. "You haven't had sex in ages, Jess. This kid cannot be that special. Come on- Where'd my wing-man go?"

"I like him," Jesse informed her dramatically and she laughed.

"And I like thongs. What's your point? Tell me- St. James… Do you only wear one pair of underwear? Is it healthy to only wear one, ever? Even if it's great underwear that you like and it hugs your ass in the best way ever."

Jesse snorted and Lucas rolled onto his stomach, one leg draping over Naomi's legs, and arm over her chest, and she smirked, beginning to play with her boyfriend's fingers.

"You're such a hypocrite, Naomi. One, you never wear underwear, unless it's a thong, and you actually do have only one to my knowledge, since we all burned your others on Columbus Day. And two," he gestured pointedly to Lucas, then began loudly humming 'We Are the Champions', gaze fixed on the ceiling once more.

"I could totally have a secret stash of granny panties," she muttered. Then: "And Lucas and I aren't exclusive! You know that!"

Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Please. You haven't had sex with anyone not-Lucas outside of threesomes that_ involve_ Lucas in, what? A year?"

"Only because everyone else is boring and completely non-sexy."

"Excuse me?" Jesse asked, arching a brow. "You're talking to the King of Sexy right now!"

"I thought that was Elvis."

"Dying on a toilet isn't sexy, even if you're jacking off," Jesse retorted, rolling onto his side.

Naomi nodded in understanding.

"Still. You are still bi, right?"

"Yes," he sighed.

Naomi looked at him a long moment, then:

"You sure boytoy's not straight?"

Jesse laughed.

"I don't think he's straight, but he's not gay either."

"Bi?"

Jesse rolled his eyes.

"I don't know! Carson's got this thing where he's just not that into people, period. Or sex. Unless it's with me, of course."

"You sure boytoy's a boy-toy?"

Jesse smirked at the ceiling.

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Uh-huh… Hey, Jess, mind leaving the room again?" she asked, her eyes once more on Lucas. "I want to wake him up and get another quickie in before my last class."

Jesse rolled onto the floor wordlessly and grabbed his laptop from the floor, then the headphones off of the small table in the corner of the room.

He heard Lucas's sleepy voice behind him, asking where he was, and then Naomi's soothing:

"Shh, we're gonna fuck again, and I didn't want to get Jess all hot and bothered watching us when he's dealing with the Prude King of the West Village."

Jesse grinned, pushing his face into the door so that the crack he'd left widened to accommodate.

"When will you learn, Naomi, that the virgins are always better?"

"That's not true," a voice said from behind him, and Jesse groaned, Naomi laughing wickedly inside.

"Hi Seth."

"Are you going to the party tonight?"

"69-ing in five seconds whether the door is open or not guys," Naomi called out. "There will be dirty talk."

"Because my babe's really hot, and…"

Lucas's moan cut himself off, and Seth gave the door a look of horror.

"Close it!"

"Are you sure?" Jesse asked, leaning back so that it opened further.

"You're killing my ability to get laid, here, guys," Lucas yelled, and Seth rolled his eyes, grabbing Jesse's hand and pulling him from the door, then jerking the handle to close it after him.

"Headphones," Seth sighed, and Jesse forked them over without question.

There was a beat as they stood there, then Seth gave him a once-over. "Can we talk?"

Jesse immediately turned and headed for the common room, Seth following without question.

They settled on the couch, Jesse lounging shamelessly, still looking incredibly smug after seeing the other students fleeing and saying loudly not to stay there if they didn't want to deal with loud singing and drawings of cats.

Seth was eying him jealously.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what? Become this amazing? I was born this way, baby. I was born to be great."

"That's Lady Gaga."

"No. It's Jesse St. James. She was singing about me. I inspired Gaga, I'm sure, the last time we talked."

"You've talked to Lady Gaga?"

Jesse smiled more than a little condescendingly.

"No- Lady Gaga's talked to me."

They sat for a moment, then Seth inhaled loudly, looking down at his lap.

"How do you just let things roll off your back like that?"

"I'm a star," Jesse said patiently, as though imparting incredible words of wisdom.

"I want to be too."

"Wanting never gets you anywhere except masturbating alone in a one bedroom apartment," Jesse retorted. "You can't be a star if you can't handle some haters."

"I've always known you were smart," Seth said quietly, and Jesse nodded.

"I am, but Carson's also rubbing off on me in some non-dirty ways, as well."

"Right. Your Kid Wonder."

"Seth, you're straight," Jesse sighed. "You've always been a straight, straight-edge prude. One night of drunk doesn't kill that. Just ask Katy Perry."

Seth stared at Jesse in bewilderment.

"What?"

"She kisses girls at concerts, doesn't she? It sells well, and it's entertaining, but it's just for the popularity points. Doesn't make her bi or a chick for chicks."

Seth scowled.

"Nevermind. I'm going to class."

"Have fun! Will it help if I draw you a cat?"

"No," Seth said irritably.

Jesse watched him go, then pulled his laptop onto his knees, muttering, "I should start calling him Elphie."

He pressed the power button and hummed listlessly as the computer began whirring into life. Footsteps, though, caught his attention, and he looked up to see Seth standing in the doorway.

"Sorry, that was rude. Please make me a cat?"

Jesse laughed.

"Oh, I will," he nodded. "She's gonna be green."

"Whatever you want to do. Bye!"

"Bye Elphie!"

Jesse scrolled to his email, then, spotting the one from Carson, smirked.

But it was all just attachments, so unless he had sent the lyrics to "S&M"…

Jesse clicked open the first attachment, then smiled genuinely when he read the editor-bubble next to his title.

Hell yeah, he'd meet him for coffee.

Didn't they always?

* * *

><p><em>AN- Reviews show your respect for Finland, and make Naomi talk about her underwear more. Oh yeah. We know you like that. We know all. ;)  
><em>


	5. Chapter 5 At Odds

**In An Instant**

Chapter 5: At Odds

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

**WORD COUNT: 4896**

* * *

><p>"You look worse than usual," Jesse greeted Carson, who simply grimaced at him.<p>

"Coffee is needed."

"Got it babe."

"Not your babe," Carson grumbled irritably, falling into his chair at their usual table and immediately unzipping his backpack and unloading a big binder. This was promptly opened, a pen removed from his pocket, and a yellow journal flipped open.

Jesse watched him from the line as he did this, intrigued, and ordered their usual from the new barista as quickly as possible before swaggering back towards Carson, grabbing the yellow notebook from the table as he did so.

Carson let out an exclamation of annoyance.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What is this?"

"It's a notebook," Carson retorted. "I'm sure you've seen them at least once before, though it's unsurprising if this is your first time having actual contact with one. However, I'd appreciate if you'd give it back to me, seeing as it's mine, and maybe if you're a good boy we can go get you one of your own later."

Jesse smirked, tossing it back in his direction.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just a bad, bad boy. Maybe if you took me over your knee…"

Carson leaned forward, features schooled into an expression of knowing intrigue.

"Is that what you want?"

Their eyes connected and stayed focused, intensely, on one another before Jesse broke away with a grin and Carson allowed himself a smirk, taking a sip of his coffee.

"No peppermint this time right?" he asked vaguely, and Jesse shot him an ambivalent look.

"Well…do you have the epi-pen on you now?"

Carson scowled.

"Yes, though I'm refusing to use it."

"That's fine. I'm always willing to shove it in you if you need me to."

Carson rolled his eyes, but his irritation seemed to have drained away entirely, and he just looked…content, in a strange way. Comfortable.

When had that happened?

"You know, the bet thing was just-"

"I honestly don't give a shit," Carson informed him, taking a deep gulp of coffee, and Jesse's lips quirked up, head tilting.

"You know, Casper- I still can't quite figure you out."

"I'm enigmatic, aren't I?"

"I don't know what that means."

Carson smirked.

"Vocabulary lesson of the day, then. Enigma means mystery. Enigmatic, then…"

"Sly bastard."

"Also good word usage, but not the definition of enigmatic," Carson laughed and Jesse leered at him, the wheels turning in his head, a measure of comprehension slowly dawning.

It was time.

If Jesse asked him out now…He wouldn't say yes, probably, since this was Carson…But he'd started liking Jesse enough, for sure, that there would be no genuine objection.

Jesse wasn't quite sure how that had happened, since he was pretty sure they'd just been fighting, but maybe that was it. They did say that absence made the heart grow fonder…

"You're working tomorrow, right?"

* * *

><p>Carson ran his fingers over the bindings of books carefully as he restocked shelves, making sure that any bearing damage were either replaced in the box at his side or, if it was minute enough and more him being "finicky" (as his coworkers liked to complain), in the bottom of the stack of books, keeping the most pristine always at the forefront.<p>

He occasionally allowed himself to read the summary of an unfamiliar novel, searching for things to add to his reading list for next month.

He always read four books a month, one per week, no matter how busy he was, just to keep his mind going. He'd found it was incredibly useful for keeping up and advancing his vocabulary and comprehension skills, in addition to knowing what was out there in the literary world at the moment.

Typically, one book had to be nonfiction, and one book had to be from that month's genre, next month's being science fiction, a welcome break after the horror of his reluctantly-added romance. The other two were whatever caught his attention, and tended to be the hardest slots to fill. Thankfully, though, filling them gave him something to do to whittle away hours at work when business ran slow but he needed to look preoccupied to the eyes of any and all potential customers.

He may, though, just have to make at least one of those slots a reread, because recently nothing good seemed to be coming in, and he honestly wasn't willing to give any of them a chance. The last time he'd done that was when the first Twilight book came out and he decided to ignore his instinct to run away instead of seeing what all the fuss was about.

Needless to say: _Never again_.

"Carson!"

Carson drew his lips into an impassive line, immediately dropping the book he'd been flipping through into a stack at the sound of his supervisor's voice.

"What do you need?"

"Can you see me in my office?"

Across the way, Claire Mathews raised an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes away, fighting the urge to throw out some snark in favor of really wanting to keep his job.

He followed his supervisor, Ellen, into her office warily, hands jamming into his pockets, and sat down at her request, nerves jumping just a little as she closed the door.

He may be belligerent with classmates and the occasional infuriating teacher, but he never once did so here, and wasn't really one to get into issues with anyone at work, though most of his coworkers weren't extraordinarily fond of him, given his often anti-social disposition. If anything, he definitely had a perhaps-grudging respect and alliance with the rest of the company (excluding Claire, although even she most laid off of him here) due to his efficiency and book-knowledge. Being called into the office like this was more than putting him on edge.

"We need to talk."

Carson nodded, sitting a little further up and choking down the desire to say something snippy about a break up, especially because a break up of sorts was always a possibility here, and one he definitely wanted to avoid.

"I haven't hidden any of the books I thought were poorly written since you talked to me about it," he said slowly, and Ellen looked a little amused at the memory of their one prior meeting where she'd had to close the door.

"Which is very good," she replied. "I just wanted to discuss some customer complaints with you before we open. I may ask you to stay after we close for a bit as well if we don't manage to finish this meeting in time, in fact. They're a bit…disturbing, to be frank. At first I thought they were just jokes," Ellen continued, opening a file of papers and pulling out a pile that had been separated from the rest by a paperclip. His file.

"Now, though, I'm becoming…concerned."

She handed him the sheaf silently, expression grave, and he took it reluctantly, immediately beginning to rifle through the alarmingly large stack.

This was very not good.

He almost groaned aloud when he saw the content, though restrained it, settling for a grimace.

"I would never do this stuff. These complaints are completely nonsensical. Book-molester? How can I get in trouble for something that blatantly ludicrous, let alone fired? And I'd never do anything even remotely sexual in a public venue, let alone masturbate."

"I believe you," Ellen assured him. "The problem is with this many complaints I'm not in charge of this one-hundred-percent as I'd like, and management wants to at least do something. Now, they'd prefer I fired you…"

Carson winced. This was so ridiculous. If the goddamn kids at his school got him fired…

"However, you're very good at what you do, something I know for a fact. So, I told them hell no. Without the hell, of course…" She paused to smile a little at him, then her expression hardened once more. "But they would only relent under the condition that I did do something, which is why you're working Halloween, for no pay, and we're letting everyone who wants that night off, have it. You'll have two other people working counters and floor with you, and I expect you to cover the reference center work, as well as write up reports on any incidents that may happen. We're not typically very busy, but I'm warning you now that the customers we do have tend to be up to no good, which is why it's a shift very few want."

She paused again to sigh, looking sympathetic.

"I'm going to take a wild leap and say that you're not very liked by some of your classmates at school."

Carson's gaze darkened more, if possible, his arms tightening in their position over his chest.

"Not really."

She looked truly sorry, and he knew she'd done some major good for him here. And he was definitely grateful. But he was also no less furious.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I know what that's like. Believe me, you're not the only person who was ever outcasted in this town. I just didn't get out, like I'd wanted. It's not so bad now, of course, and it actually hasn't been since I started my senior year. Things got far better with the perspective twelfth grade gave everyone. But I still know, and I wish I could do more. I'll tell you what though… Halloween shift will be even harder for you, because you're a target. If you want to have someone come in and stick around with you through it, I'll look the other way."

Carson slumped.

"Thanks," he retorted, forcing the anger from his voice as much as he could manage. "Is there anything else?"

"We're also going through the security tapes," she informed him, her face smoothing back to only slightly sympathetic professional.

Carson nodded.

That was expected.

"After Halloween, if we're not done, you'll be asked to take leave from work until it's all finished up."

"Fantastic," he gritted out. "Is my pay docked too?"

"No," she said automatically. "Your leave will be unpaid, but when you are working, with the exception of Halloween, your pay will be left completely intact. Trust me, Carson. I'm working with corporate to get a rush on this. I raved about you to them to get this much."

"I do appreciate that."

"I know. Now, we open in fifteen minutes, and I need you out there getting everything you were working on before finished up. Do we need to discuss this farther before the end of your shift?"

"Can I work overtime?"

"No."

"Then I've got nothing," Carson replied, shrugging jerkily. "I'll get back to work, then?"

"Thank you for cooperating," Ellen sighed. "Yes, you can go. Please don't make my vote of confidence look bad. The pressure's on both of us now."

Carson nodded, standing.

"Don't worry about it."

He moved quickly back to his previous station, unsurprised when Claire popped up moments later as he was quickly shelving the sorted books and neatening the boxes he'd have to carry back to the stockroom.

"What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything," he retorted tersely. "And remember three years ago when you swore that you'd never again talk to me? When exactly is that coming into effect?"

Claire ignored him, shuffling a few of the books in the historical section that bridged with the literature section he'd immersed himself in organizing.

"If you didn't do anything then what'd you have to talk to Ellen for? Oh, they finally got a new biography for Mary Queen of Scots in," she interrupted herself, looking delighted.

Carson snorted despite himself.

"You're still addicted to biographies. Do your followers know?"

Claire ignored the gibe.

She was always her nicest and most relaxed before they opened. It was the time of least risk.

"So what was it? Did she catch you with the books?"

Carson shot her a look of abrupt fury.

"You knew?"

"That you eye-fuck books? Um…duh? You don't exactly hide that. Well…you don't hide it well, at least."

Carson slammed a book onto the shelf.

"Did you make any of those complaints?"

Claire frowned at him, the hand still holding the biography she'd been leafing through bringing the volume to her chest.

"Complaints."

"There were roughly twenty customer complaints against me," Carson informed her dully, after noting her expression and the clear implication that she had no real idea what he was talking about. "Most of them along the lines of being a sexual deviant with a book fetish. I was almost fired."

Claire winced, no longer even remotely meeting his eye, instead dragging a finger and her gaze along the ridge of a row of biographies

"Huh. Are you sure you're not?"

Carson scowled at her, shoving a book a little more roughly than what was technically necessary into its place.

"Once again, why are you talking to me?"

Claire hmphed, hand dropping.

"Wow, so sorry for trying to be nice."

"Yeah, you tried really hard on that one," he said quietly with a hollow laugh. "I can see how you've achieved so much, Madame President."

Claire narrowed her eyes.

"If you only knew how much I've helped you-"

"Don't," Carson cut her off, hefting a box. "Leave me the hell alone."

"I was right, wasn't I, though? I was always right. Things have only gotten better for me with every year."

Carson's only response was to walk away.

It was a brilliant beginning to what he suspected would be a completely shit day.

* * *

><p>Jesse St. James was pretty sure today would be amazing.<p>

Though he was also pretty sure it'd be better if Lucas hadn't locked him out of the room again, when he was only wearing a towel…

Not that he couldn't rock the look, because he was sexy as hell, and he'd already had six separate incidents of flirting since he'd emerged from the shower and gone to the room to find it locked.

One of these days he really did need to make a copy of that key…Or at least find where Lucas kept the spare Jesse knew he'd made when they'd first gotten their dorm.

He would love to see Carson's face if he turned up at his work to ask him out in a towel though…

It was just that the issue of being arrested for public indecency might put a bit of a damper on things… And he really didn't think Carson would be willing to bail him out.

"Lucas, I have to go," he informed the door.

"Lucas isn't in there," Seth informed him from behind, and Jesse turned quickly on his heel to face the other boy.

"You're fucking with me right?"

Seth paused, head cocking, then: "Do you…want me to be?"

Jesse groaned, letting his head fall back into his door with a thud, the towel hanging loosely on his hips.

"I have to leave soon and I have no way of getting in to get dressed."

Seth gave him a look of bemusement.

"You could easily just get the spare."

"Trust me, if I knew where I could find it, I'd have it by now."

Seth went to the wall next to the door and leaned his head back, automatically mimicking Jesse's stance as he rolled his head up then to the side to stare at Jesse.

"I assumed Lucas would have told you by now."

Jesse arched a brow.

"Told me what?"

"That if you need in, I have the spare."

"You have a key to our dorm," Jesse said dumbly, eyes falling closed. "Because that's not asking for trouble. Can I use it then?"

Seth grinned.

"Of course. Follow me."

Jesse sighed, readjusting his towel, and followed Seth back to his own dorm begrudgingly, humming as he went to fill the awkward silence.

He and Seth were very rarely alone these days. Well, the past week or so, but still...

It was weird.

Seth gestured him in and shut the door behind him.

"When do you have to be out by, anyway? What's with the rush?"

Jesse watched Seth rifle through a drawer, scanning the dorm vaguely as he did.

"I'm going to Barnes and Noble."

Seth paused in his search to look up, brow crinkled with disconcertion.

"You don't read."

"Of course I do."

"…Like what?"

"Scripts and magazines."

Seth laughed loudly, returning to his hunt through the drawer, and finally pulling out a small book, which he threw Jesse's way.

Jesse frowned, picking it up from where it had landed in his lap and laying back.

"What's this?"

"Read it."

Jesse eyed the thing suspiciously.

"Is the key in here?"

"Nope."

"Then… What is it?"

"Lucas likes to keep a log…"

Jesse laughed loudly, swinging his calves against the bed.

"Please, oh please, tell me you're not serious."

"Of course I am," Seth replied, voice still soft and a little distracted, though soaked in a strange sentimentality.

Jesse shook his head.

"You guys are lucky you have Naomi to redeem you. Can I have the key now?"

Seth held it up and smiled.

"First, sign in."

Jesse rolled his eyes but did so, and caught the key thrown his way with self-satisfied ease.

"I can walk you back?"

"That's fine," Jesse refuted him. "I've got to hurry to keep up my plan."

He was beaming just thinking about it and Seth's brow crinkled.

"Why are you going to Barnes and Noble anyway?"

Jesse winked at him, letting his towel slip down past the point of even semi-decency as he went to open the door, exposing himself gleefully, and a little teasingly as he responded.

"It's where Carson works. See ya."

He left Seth gaping, though didn't bother turning to see if it was with astonishment or with anger.

He was Jesse St. James, after all. Of course it was the former.

* * *

><p>Jesse wasn't much of a reader, but he'd always had a bit of a thing for bookstores and libraries, though he honestly thought Barnes and Noble was the one who should have been closed down instead of Borders.<p>

They'd had Starbucks, after all.

But Barnes and Noble got bonus points since Carson worked there, so Jesse was willing to forgive it the lack of coffee and general sugary goodness.

Especially since, he observed with a manic grin and glinting eye as he pulled in, there was a Starbucks perched conveniently right next to it. Bet Carson loved the fuck out of that coincidence. If it was a coincidence that was, Jesse mused, clambering from his car and setting off towards the shop. He wouldn't put it past Carson to have made absolutely sure that wherever he worked was next to some sort of coffee venue.

It would be just like him, in fact, Jesse thought with a small smirk.

He ordered himself and Carson each a coffee, already mentally staking out which would be his and Carson's spot.

It wasn't hard to find, and Jesse strolled out quickly, entering Barnes and Noble moments later.

Carson was kneeling at a shelf in the romance section, a group of girls at his side, the one at the forefront tapping her foot in Carson's line of vision, while another girl snapped her gum every fifteen seconds, making his eyes narrow.

He stood up, brushing hard at the legs of his jeans, and arched his brow at the girl, countenance cool, with the exclusion of his hands' jerky movements against his thighs.

"You're sure you don't remember the title, author, anything?" he asked, and Jesse smirked from his place in the aisle behind them like a fucking ninja, or the cat who got the canary.

Gum snap.

Tap.

Tap.

Pop.

"No," the girl with the gum said finally, drawing it back into her mouth after yet another loudly bursted bubble had completely deflated to her lip.

Carson nodded.

"Is there any way you can get that information? Much as I'd like my name to be google… We have computers. If you want to just enter the keywords, maybe…"

"I know it's here," one of the girls interrupted. "Can't you just check the shelf again?"

"…Sure," Carson strained out, and Jesse was unable to hold back a snort at the expression on his face.

"What was that?" gum-girl asked dully, and Jesse popped out from behind the behind the shelf, grinning.

Carson didn't look up, though his hand faltered over a row of books before moving on again.

"Jesse St. James, at your service," Jesse informed them, leaning against the side of the shelf. "Well, his actually, but don't feel too bad. I know guy on guy action is hot among your age group, so to lessen your pain, I'll give you this little tidbit:…" at this Jesse looked at Carson who was giving him a passive look in return, though with an edge of concern. The girls seemed bewildered and, disturbingly, a little entranced. "I like him, and I know he likes me too, though he won't admit it. Still, I do want to ask him out, so I'd appreciate if we could have a moment."

"Um…Sure… Come on. Let's go ask that girl if she has any recommendations," one of the girls between the gum-popper and foot-tapper said, and all of the others immediately assented.

Carson's head was already shaking, but his eyes had returned to the books, and he wasn't saying a single snarky word, which Jesse took as a pretty good sign.

"So, my dorm tomorrow, say five-ish?"

Carson rolled his eyes.

"Sure, Jesse."

"It's a date, then."

"A study date," Carson affirmed, picking out one of the books and giving it a once-over.

"Studying anatomy," Jesse replied with a smile, dipping down next to Carson, who looked at him in amusement.

"Big word."

"Thanks… It's a pretty hard one too."

Carson rolled his eyes, reorganizing a few books abruptly with a look of annoyance.

"People need to learn to put things back where they belong…" he muttered. "So, what exactly do you want me to work on tomorrow? Can I get a few specifics?"

Jesse watched Carson a moment, before automatically throwing out: "Shakespeare."

Carson perked up immediately.

"What's the subject?"

Jesse laughed, sliding a coffee cup over to him, which he took promptly, not even bothering with his usual suspicion.

"You want to start writing it right when you get off work don't you?"

Carson nodded, unabashed, and stood to face him squarely.

"Of course I do. That's how good work is done, St. James. Have I taught you nothing?"

Jesse grinned.

"Absolutely nothing. You should be working harder at that."

He winked and reached forward, pulling a pen from Carson's pocket and then grabbing his hand in a firm grip as Carson raised an eyebrow at him. Carson scowled at the pen against his skin, but didn't bother to object until Jesse was done, and he had his hand to himself.

"You didn't put that it was a study date. Just date. And it's not our first. And two is a better time. We can get more work done."

Jesse shrugged, grabbing his hand again, curling their fingers together as he changed five to two and added "study" above the word date in quotation marks.

"Happy Casper?"

Carson's eyes narrowed.

"Not particularly, but I suppose it's the best I'll get out of you, isn't it?"

Jesse smirked.

"It's good we have an understanding. I'll see you at two. The address of my dorm is already on your phone."

Carson nodded distractedly, eyes on a few more customers.

"That's fine. Can I get back to work now? ...And thanks for the coffee. I'm skipping my break today, so that was needed."

Jesse's voice was genuine, if condescending and smarmy as ever, as he replied: "Anytime."

* * *

><p><em>AN- _

_1. Just so everyone knows, you can find your daily fill of Jarson at JarsonStPhillips dot tumblr dot com. We have a "Song of the Day" special every other week, and with all of these "extras" for the story are also posted. _

_2. The answer to our anon reviewer, Matt, can be found in Thusday's SotD. We made sure to make a list of every character that has a focus's sexuality, with that list being added to as the story goes on. But, for anyone who doesn't have the time/patience/etc. to do that, I'll also tell you here that Carson is what's called Pansexual. I'll make sure some links with extra info on this are put up on our tumblr tonight, but that's the general "label" we'd use. This will be coming up soon in the story as well, but because the point of this story is not the character's sexualities, it likely won't have a *HUGE* focus. We do appreciate the question, and knew it was coming up, so we only hope no-one has issues with this story based on this answer. Thanks for that. :) And we appreciate the feedback we've gotten. All readers in general mean the world to us, but special thanks go to ItsMetaphorFool, KurtFabulous, **AND**, so much, Allie and Mary, whom we love and are amazing and we hope they enjoy this Jarson, too. Also: Matt, without whom this ramble would not have occured. Lol. _

_3. Reviews make duct-tape magically appear over the characters who stuffed the complaint box's mouths, and have the capability of getting Claire to shove off. Also, we all know Jesse is like Rachel Berry and needs applause to live. And if he doesn't live, then who will kiss Carson-... Oh, no, have I said too much? STAY TUNED! :)_


	6. Chapter 6 Date

**In An Instant**

Chapter 6: Date

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

**WORD COUNT: 4171**

* * *

><p>"Jesse, I'm trying to work," Carson muttered.<p>

Jesse sighed, throwing himself onto the bed behind Carson.

"I know you are," he said easily. "Which you know I fully support, seeing as that is my essay, and I need to get a good grade. But still. When can we make out already? I'm horny, and watching you work isn't helping the situation."

A glower was thrown at the boy on the bed, but went ignored, and Carson returned with no small amount of either annoyance or determination to his revisions. He was already vastly improving Jesse's collegiate term paper on Shakespearean Era performances, which seemed to have been written with neither care, nor the least bit of true study beforehand.

Basically- It reeked of Jesse St. James, in all the wrong ways.

"Then, you should let me work, shouldn't you?" he murmured finally, ignoring the last part of what Jesse had said, eyes still focused on the paper, hand darting forth to make a quick notation and scratch out a bit of inappropriately placed punctuation.

Jesse didn't bother to reply and the silence fell heavy and thick between them, only interrupted by the ruffling of paper and soft etching-sounds of Carson's incredible assortment of pens and highlighters at work.

Carson was just beginning to rewrite a few of the citings in the fourth paragraph down when a humming started up behind him. He ignored it, zeroing in on his own messy scrawl, rereading it diligently.

And then-

_Fragment ideas__  
><em>_And too many pronouns__  
><em>_Stop it, come on__  
><em>_You're not making sense now__  
><em>_You can't make them want you__  
><em>_They're all just laughing_

"Jesse?" he asked, turning slightly in his chair to stare over at the older boy. "Are you seriously singing?"

"This date is boring," Jesse replied with a grin.

Carson raised an eyebrow.

"Date," he repeated deadpan, making the word sound as ridiculous and revolting as he possibly could. "Study date, you mean."

Jesse simply gave him a devilish smirk and Carson turned back to the paper, exasperated but refusing to let the other boy win.

Win what exactly, he wasn't quite sure. But that was readily deemed to be completely irrelevant, and thusly disregarded.

About thirty seconds passed before, softly behind him he heard:

_Literate and stylish (literate and stylish)__  
><em>_Kissable and quiet (kissable and quiet)_

Carson reddened, but continued to work.

_Well that's what guys' dreams are made of__  
><em>_And that's all you need to know (and that's all you need to know)__  
><em>_You have it or you don't (you have it or you)__  
><em>_You have it or you (don't)_

Seriously, how many commas could you put in one sentence?

Well, given that it was probably the longest run-on in existence, evidently a lot…

Meanwhile, Jesse grew steadily louder, eyes focused on his dorm's ceiling, watching Carson work in his periphery with a little smirk at the corner of his open lips.

_You have it or you__  
><em>_You see how much time you're wastin?__  
><em>_You're coward of seperatin_

Jesse's voice swelled, and he observed a small twitching start up at Carson's jaw with great satisfaction.

_Stop it, come on__  
><em>_You know I can't help it__  
><em>_I got the mic__  
><em>_And you got the mosh pit__  
><em>_What will it take__  
><em>_To make you admit that you were wrong?_

"Do you want me to give you an F?" Carson asked finally, voice loud and exasperated.

"Come on now, we both know you couldn't."

"Fuck you," Carson told the papers in front of him.

"If you want, I could be down with that, though I thought you'd at least want to make out a little bit first."

"You know, when you're as intelligent as I am, murder is actually really easy to get away with," Carson retorted dryly.

Jesse barked out a laugh, and then let the silence re-coat them, tapping his fingers against his jean-clad legs as if they were a piano.

After another few minutes, Jesse released a groan.

"Wow…this is so boring…."

Another pause.

Carson's eyes continued to track over the paper before him.

"Boring first date. But you know what would make it less boring?"

Carson finally sighed, pushing back the paper and pen he'd been using, and turned to fix his gaze sternly on Jesse's lax form, doing his best to get across the message that he really, really didn't care.

And, also, this wasn't a date. At least not more than a studying one.

"Aside from another concert? Or actually working?" he snarked.

Jesse smiled slowly and coyly as he propped himself up on his elbows, the expression making him peculiarly resemble a fox.

"You know you want me," he said simply, though with a very Jesse undertone of melodrama.

"You know what…"

Carson pushed abruptly off of the chair and went to the bed, leaning down.

"I think I do, now. Know what would make this less boring."

Jesse's smirk grew more pronounced.

"Of course you do."

Carson moved rapidly to straddle the university student, bending himself as close as he dared.

"Of course. I'm more intelligent than you by miles," he breathed onto the smooth, olive flesh of Jesse's jaw.

Then, just before their lips were to touch, he pulled back with a laugh.

"Probably because I'm not always thinking with my dick, idiot," he proclaimed triumphantly, sliding back from the bed and turning his back to Jesse. "Now, back to-"

A hand caught on his elbow and jerked him around.

Jesse's smirk had never been wider than when it caught Carson's lips and began to move against them.

The heat of the moment spread between them, and Jesse quickly stroked out his tongue, Carson responding with a subtle aggression, each battling to dominate the kiss, each determined to win in their own regard.

And of course, somehow, they both were doing that exactly.

Carson moved forward, and they stumbled backwards together towards the bed, limbs locked and pushing ever closer.

The door behind them burst open.

"Jesse, hey, have you seen- Okay, hey, woah. Getting it on- let a girl know will you? What happened to putting headphones on the door?"

Carson jerked back, lips pursed, and went instantly to the desk while Jesse released a loud groan on the bed.

"Things were just getting non-boring," he complained. "Carson, man, it's just Naomi, my roommate's girlfriend."

"Okay, hey, just the roommate's girlfriend?" the girl grinned. "Well, at least I'm not picking up my hook-ups from the middle schools. How old is this kid?"

"I'm sixteen," Carson declared, already taking back up his pen. "And here I thought cougars enjoyed high-school students."

She laughed loudly.

"Cougar? Well, drama queen, you do know how to pick 'em!"

"Of course I do," Jesse replied haughtily. "And I was just turning this into an actually interesting first date."

"Uh-huh…well, Lucas wanted to ask you something in the bathroom, and I needed my bra back before class so…"

She snatched up a lacy red bra from between the rumpled sheets on the other bed in the room.

"Hey, kid, you okay unsupervised for a few moments while Jesse here helps me out? I promise you can continue your-" she snickered slightly- "date, when he comes back."

"He's fine. More excited about fixing my paper than making out anyway," Jesse sighed, getting up.

"I'll be back."

There was silence in the room for a moment after the door closed before Carson let out an all suffering sigh and looked sternly to the paper as he said, "It's not a real date."

Neither he nor the papers could be entirely convinced.

* * *

><p>Carson focused himself on the words he'd written, rereading the most recent paragraph, and only two lines of the next, pen tense in his hand, as he scratched out a few arrows, carefully switching the order of two cites before going on, eyes darting between the textbook open beside him, Jesse's paper, and his own separated page filled with rewrites and notations.<p>

A creaking sounded behind him a few moments later, and Carson forced himself to remain absorbed in his work and not look at Jesse who was no doubt watching him with that stupid smirk and…

"Who are you? Where's Jesse?"

Carson frowned.

Or not.

He shuffled a few of the papers on the desk meticulously, other hand straightening his writing utensils.

"He had to help his roommate, and roommate's girlfriend," Carson said vaguely.

More creaking, though this time of floorboards instead of the door.

Carson turned to look at the guy, awkwardness already beginning to seep in and distract him.

"Are you waiting for him or something?"

The guy stared at him for a long moment, then went to Jesse's bed and plopped down.

"I'm Seth," he informed Carson. "I don't like vaginas anymore. How do you know Jesse?" Seth's tone twisted around the latter parts, and Carson cleared his throat uncomfortably.

What was wrong with people here?

"This isn't a date," he found himself saying, and Seth nodded.

"I'd hope not. Jesse doesn't need more boys vying for his attention."

"Right…"

"He's really fantastic," Seth added, twisting his fists in Jesse's comforter. "A true star. I only wish I could be as great as him. But I'm getting there."

"That's nice," Carson replied uncomfortably, more snark entering his tone than intended. "Maybe he can focus on you then, instead."

Seth nodded.

"He's one of my closest friends. We slept together last month. He's helped me a lot."

Carson scowled.

"Have you not heard of too much information?" he suggested. "Look, can't you just talk to him later about whatever you want to talk about? I'm trying to help him get some work done."

Seth lay back on Jesse's bed instead, and Carson sighed, reaching for his copies of "Hamlet" and "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

"I doubt he needs your help."

"Oh, I assure you he does," Carson retorted sardonically, flipping open Hamlet to his first sticky note. "Unless he wants to fail out of here, he definitely does. Do you realize how poor his grades are?"

"Jesse likes to flirt," Seth said, sitting up and looking Carson in the eye. "But he'll stop the second he gets you. And I doubt he really digs your intellectual groove. Jesse belongs with a fellow star."

Carson groaned.

"I don't actually care."

Seth scoffed and Carson glared at him.

"Some of us have higher priorities than sex."

"I have higher priorities than sex," Seth replied, standing and combing a hand through his short, dark curls. "You don't know me."

"Well, you're not giving me the best first impression," Carson informed him irritably.

Seth paused, then nodded, hurrying to the door.

"I'm sorry," he offered shortly, then opened the door and burst out, leaving Carson to stare after him incredulously, then turn to the papers on the desk and book in his hand and shake his head disbelievingly, muttering, "What the fuck?" under his breath.

* * *

><p>"I'm back," Jesse announced. "I'm sure you missed me terribly, but it's all okay now."<p>

Carson rolled his eyes.

"Oh yes. It nearly killed me breathing in all the fresh air that filled the room once you were unable to fill the space with your ego."

"My ego's not the only thing that can fill space," Jesse replied easily, sidling over to Carson's chair.

Carson nodded.

"That's right. So can your hair. I had a visitor while you were out, by the way. That was fun. We may have had sex in your bed, since, as you so kindly pointed out when I tried to sit on it earlier, that's clearly its best purpose other than sleep. I hope you don't mind. Actually, I hope you do."

"If that's true then we need to cover it up with the two of us instead," Jesse informed him, and Carson shook his head.

"Serious time. Work time. One question…no, wait, two: Why did your friend feel the need to inform me that he doesn't like vaginas anymore and when did you two sleep together?"

"I turned him gay," Jesse said with a shrug. "And he's very grateful."

Carson narrowed his eyes.

"I don't think I buy that. He was a little…"

"Horny?" Jesse supplied helpfully, though Carson ignored him in favor of, "insane. More so than you."

"He's just upset because secretly he only was into sex with another guy because it was me and he was drunk and I'm practically a sex god. Only thing I'm better at is putting on a musical performance. I'm a very talented performer, if that had escaped your notice, though I'm not sure how it would."

"Right," Carson said. "You've actually told me that before. This Seth guy also mentioned something about how much you'd never like me because of my intelligence, just so you know… This essay is awful, by the way. These sources are all completely inaccurate."

"That's why I have you to fix it up," Jesse nodded, returning to his bed. "And Seth's just jealous because he wants me to be in love with him and for him to actually be able to be in love with me. He called his parents after we slept together, you know? I'm talking, almost right after. He was so excited to tell them that he could be gay now for them."

Carson raised an eyebrow.

"Why the hell…?"

"Oh, it's all very Elphaba and the jeweled slippers."

"Sure," Carson said shortly. "Now back to the paper-"

"Or back to making out," Jesse mused, patting languidly at his bedspread.

"Back to the paper," Carson restated, and Jesse nodded resignedly, falling back.

"Back to being my most boring date. Are you done or something?"

"More like or something. Do you realize-"

"Why don't you want to make out again?" Jesse interrupted. "You seemed to be having a good time. Not quite as good at it as me, of course, but you'll get better if that's what you're worried about."

"Hey," Carson cut in with a scowl. "I was taken by surprise, alright? And, I, for one, don't need to be completely skilled at that. I've had better things to do with my time, St. James."

Jesse grinned, while Carson stood and began to pace for a moment.

"I was your first kiss, wasn't I? Do you want to sing about it?"

"What?" he fell back into the chair, staring.

"There's a great selection of songs," Jesse went on, nodding seriously. "First times are always very special."

"Is my head exploding? Because it feels like it is…"

"Come on. Relax. You need to learn how to have fun," Jesse declared. "Let's do a musical number. There's a fun song by 3OH!3… _I said no more teachers and no more books; I got a kiss under the bleachers; Hoping that nobody looks._"

"Jesse," Carson sighed, standing once more, but Jesse simply smirked and thrust his hips impertinently against his mattress, before rising to circle around Carson, then arch himself obscenely against the wall, as much a performer as ever. "It's time to shut up now."

Carson pressed his hands over his eyes, sighing.

"Oh my god, this man is crazy…" Carson mumbled, moving forward nonetheless.

"_Lips like licorice, tongue like candy; Excuse me miss, but can I get you out your pant_-mmf!"

Carson laughed against Jesse's lips, pulling back after a moment.

"I told you to shut up."

Jesse swallowed, still smirking, then opened his mouth and leaned forward ever so slightly so that his breath was brushing Carson's ear.

"_In the back of the car; On our way to the bar_, _I got you on my lips_…"

Carson's eyes flickered for a moment as he understood what Jesse was doing, but then he chuckled one more time, as if in release, and moved his hand to Jesse's cheek, turning his head to press their lips together again.

"I always do like to be good at what I'm doing," he murmured, as they pulled closer together, and Jesse grinned.

"I can attest that practice makes perfect…"

"Attest? Where'd you learn that word?" Carson breathed, a little wanton in tone against his will.

"I knew you'd like that…"

The pair sank deeper in, moving backwards subconsciously until they hit the bed and fell back, still moving against one another as they settled on Jesse's comforter.

Abruptly, again, Carson pulled back, and Jesse blew out a breath.

"What now?"

There was a pause, during which Carson stared down at his hands curled in his lap, then he groaned.

"I'm supposed to be smarter than this."

"You're kidding me," Jesse said flatly.

Carson turned to him.

"You're right. I'm attracted to you, and I'm enjoying this."

"Well, clearly," Jesse replied, the words somehow sounding exactly like a very blasé, "duh!"

"I don't like being wrong," Carson told him irritably. "Besides, this makes no sense."

"We're two hot guys with working dicks that like each other, and therefore like making out," Jesse reminded him blandly. "How does that not make sense?"

"I don't like guys or girls or people in general," Carson explained, clearly aggravated. "I've only been attracted in the least to one or two people, and I've received all kinds of crap for that. And now here I am making out with a narcissist, like it doesn't matter… I'm not a whore that you can just pay off with…Well, I don't know, but- I'm not desperate for action or whatever."

Jesse moved over to sit next to Carson on his bed's edge, their sides pressing together.

"I never said you were. If anything, you're the least desperate person I've ever met. Honestly, Carson? I really do like you, more than I usually like people. You're not someone I could just sleep with once and forget about. You wouldn't let me, and that's a big reason why I enjoy being with you so much, even when all you can talk about is your paper or how bad my grammar is."

"I'm not easy, in any way," Carson went on sharply. "And you happen to like things easy."

"That's only because things always come easy to me," Jesse laughed. "And maybe if you'd let them, they'd come easy to you too."

Carson rolled his eyes.

"So what now?"

"Well, I'd still be fine with continuing to make out or singing, so…Oh! Do you want to see my cats?"

Carson shook his head vigorously, turning to face Jesse and leaning forward so that his head was pressed to the college student's shoulder.

"Or we could watch a movie," he said quietly. "Like one of those actual stupid teenager dates I'm always hearing about. It will be good for my paper, I'm sure."

"Make it a musical of my choice?"

Carson looked up into Jesse's eyes.

"No sex."

"But the emotional connection is even stronger with music to it!"

"Not happening."

"What if it involves romance as well as writing and history and other 'intellectual' sort of stuff?"

Carson smirked, then nodded.

"Fine. But no singing along and I get to work on finishing your essay."

Jesse grinned and impulsively leaned forward to give Carson a quick kiss, which progressed even more swiftly, tongues rapidly engaging in a more and more comfortable battle, before he stood and moved toward the bookshelf's assortment of DVDs.

"We're watching Moulin Rouge," Jesse called over his shoulder, and Carson nodded vaguely, watching Jesse carefully as he moved.

Jesse returned moments later, and smirked as he plopped down next to Carson.

"Done analyzing the situation yet?"

Carson's lips twitched in their set, and he shook his head honestly.

"Not yet."

"Of course not. Just don't not enjoy our date because of it. Though with me here I don't see how you could, anyway."

Carson stared down at his lap, still sitting stiffly facing the other man, then, slowly, he unfolded his limbs ever so slightly and Jesse hummed, leaning against him as he took up the remote and hit power, then play.

"Mind if I lay down? I'll be less apt to sing along in that position."

Not even waiting for an answer, Jesse moved, sliding down so that his head was on Carson's thigh, and, because he didn't know what else to do, Carson moved his arm to drape over Jesse's side.

"You're going to love this, believe me."

"Sure…by the way. Jesse…Your grammar is shit. 'Don't not enjoy' is a double negative."

"I was wrong," Jesse laughed. "This isn't the most boring date I've ever had. It's the weirdest one. You make my most recent actual ex look near normal."

"Tell me about it later," Carson sighed. "If I'm going to actually have my first date right now, then I need to actually have it. Otherwise, there will be nothing to really write about for the Chronicle."

"I can't believe I'm competing with a paper. …Carson, listen to these next words, alright? They're important… Did you hear that?"

Carson groaned.

"Yes, Jesse, I heard that."

"Good. Now, say it with me, because it's something I think you need to remember. _'The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.'_

* * *

><p><em>AN- _

_...You know, they say reviews are the best aphrodisiac of them all...;)_


	7. Chapter 7 Terminology

**In An Instant**

Chapter 7: Terminology

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

**WORD COUNT: 7210**

* * *

><p>"I cannot believe you're missing the Halloween party," Lucas grumbled, and Jesse tossed him a smile.<p>

"Carson has to work."

"You're sickening."

"So are the scarves that are literally never removed from your bedposts, but you don't see me complaining."

Lucas reddened at the jab, throwing himself down onto his bed.

"That's because you think it's hot."

"And you're covering attraction to my… Carson. To Carson."

Jesse frowned, brow furrowing, and fell to his own bedspread.

Lucas turned his head on his pillow to look over at him.

"You don't know what you guys are, do you?"

Jesse scowled.

"Go get tied up by your girlfriend or something."

Lucas looked taken aback for a moment before grinning and reaching for his phone.

"Maybe I will. Her class _is_ almost out," he mused, far more pleasant already, as he checked the time, then went to his messages.

Jesse tugged out his own phone with a dramatic sigh.

Carson never answered texts while he was in school…

Maybe Jesse should go down there again.

Of course, Carson would kill him, but damn would that be a good death…

Instead, Jesse texted his theater director and got permission to use the stage when it was clear in an hour. Perfect timing for facebook!

He facebook-stalked Carson again, then Naomi and Lucas, then the girl Naomi had suggested he bang that he'd casually flirted with, because there was virtually nothing else to do. He moved on to Carson's cousins Andrew and Amy for a bit, but decided quickly that they were almost as boring as Mary had been, and moved on to looking up porn for the next half-hour.

The trouble was that even masturbating couldn't make him stop thinking.

Was it possible that for once he was being used, instead of doing the using?

Fuck, but he hoped not.

He'd done work for Carson! He didn't work for people, just parts- It was a rule. And yet, he'd chased the hell out of Carson. Jesse St. James was not supposed to come out of anything on the losing end. It was against the laws of nature.

Of course, Carson had to be in love with him now… He'd taken his first kiss after all, hadn't he?

Jesse grinned inwardly and then outwardly, settling himself back to smug.

He was a dashing Disney prince come to life, with a surplus of talent and far more sex appeal.

He'd just have to discuss it with Carson during Carson's Halloween shift. It wasn't like he was going to be incredibly busy, aside from his usual workaholic stuff.

Jesse checked the time and lazily stood, stretching.

He could head to the stage now.

They had a production called Spring Awakening coming up, and Jesse fully intended to be the lead role, Melchior. He'd be perfect for it, so much better than the original performer, Jake Epstein. The guy was talented, no doubt, but Jesse was better.

He was still trying to settle on which of the songs in his repertoire he should use to audition with. He should film it and show it to Carson.

If that didn't make Carson jump his bones, then nothing would.

* * *

><p>"Carson Phillips?"<p>

"What?" Carson snapped tiredly.

A sophomore girl was staring at him, mouth slightly ajar.

"Just…the office… Wanted to see you."

Carson stared.

"What?"

His classmates were all staring up from their work now, eyes on him, several snickering or muttering amongst themselves, while others simply watched stolidly, eyes guarded and unsure.

Carson rubbed a hand through his hair, glancing at his paper.

"What office?" he asked, taking the ticket she brandished at him with a look of mildly frightened repulsion.

"Mr. Sendry's."

"…The counselor's," Carson said quietly, as though dumbfounded. More and more of his peers were looking up, particularly at this latest revelation, irritation coloring a few of their features. Then, slowly, as if trying to decipher a particularly difficult problem: "Why would he want to talk to me?"

Carson scowled abruptly.

"They're not shutting down the newspaper, if that's what this is."

Laughter erupted through the room, along with disparaging comments, and Carson reddened against his will.

"I don't think it's about that," the girl's voice had turned nasty, emboldened by the clear dislike and disregard the room at large, teacher included, seemed to have for him, and Carson glowered at her.

"Then it can wait until I'm done with my work I guess. Tell Mr. Sendry I'll speak to him when I finish, and if not, tomorrow during lunch, okay?"

"He's so pathetic," a girl behind him said loudly to the girl next to her, who gave a hint of a smirk and nodded.

Carson cast the teacher with an exasperated look, but she was staring determinedly at her computer screen.

The woman hated conflict, something for which Carson had rapidly come to hate her.

Fine, whatever.

"It says immediately," the girl informed him, as though _he_ were the stupid one.

People often said that freshmen were the most annoying at school, but Carson was pretty sure it was actually sophomores who deserved that particular title.

"Just… I'll finish in five minutes and be there, _okay_?"

The girl shrugged.

"Whatever. Hi, Allison!"

One of the girls in class waved sheepishly, and the student aide flounced out.

"Hey Allison," a boy mimicked, sniggering, and the girl smacked his shoulder.

Carson cast them a look of disgust and busied himself with quickly finishing off his paper, then turning it in and heading as promised toward the counselor's office.

Fuck, but he was dreading this… He just didn't understand why they wanted him in there.

He didn't really want to find out.

Carson rapped his knuckles twice on the door, then opened it the rest of the way, faltering a little before he stepped in, automatically shutting the door behind himself and walking slowly forward to sink into one of the chairs in front of Mr. Sendry's desk.

"Mr. Phillips."

The man hadn't looked up, though his words were very clearly more statement than question.

Carson cleared his throat and nodded, nonetheless.

The counselor looked up at him finally, a crease between his slightly overgrown brows.

"So. There have been some incidents lately that have left me concerned."

Carson swallowed a lump of irritation and shifted a little in his chair, reaching down to pull his backpack into his lap and against his chest. Mr. Sendry observed him for a moment, only turning away to cough into his elbow, then sighed.

"I'm sure you know what I'm referring to. Let's not play games here, Carson."

Carson scowled, fingers flexing around his chair's arms.

"I'm sure I don't," he retorted. "And since I am me, I think I'd know a little bit better than you what I know and what I don't, don't you think?"

The guidance counselor twitched and swallowed, taking hold of his tie and smoothing it over nervously.

"Look, Carson. Let's be honest here. You're not very well-liked by the student body."

Carson arched a brow.

"Is that so?"

Mr. Sendry tongued at his teeth a moment, his own brow raising and a small cluck emitting from his throat.

"So what if they don't?" Carson asked irritably. "If we're down here to discuss my _popularity_-"

"That is part of it," the man admitted, and Carson resisted the urge to snarl at him, thinking vaguely that Jesse's tendency towards dramatics must be contagious.

"Can we get to the whole of it? I don't actually care that I'm not liked by these morons-"

"And maybe that's the problem," Mr. Sendry commented, and Carson actually did snarl a little. "Perhaps if you went lighter on the attitude you might get yourself into less trouble, Carson. Not to mention that you might see a little more success come your way. As the saying goes, you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. There's a reason they say that, as I'm sure you know."

Carson crossed his arms over his chest, head shaking a little.

"But why would I want to catch flies? They're filled with diseases and all-around annoying, not to mention that they have a strong interest in both shit and trash."

Mr. Sendry stared at him for a long moment before sighing.

"There have been reports of incidents between you and your peers going back through your entire school career, but they've been becoming more and more frequent. We're only about half-way through our second six weeks, and you've had at least two major incidents, with at least seven or eight smaller."

Carson glowered at that.

"And I haven't started any of them or been violent in any way."

"I know," the counselor said, lifting his hands a little. "But we'd like to decrease the numbers nonetheless. Carson, you're very intelligent. That much is clear."

Carson kept his eyes narrowed at the man, though his attention was caught.

"This is a school, no matter what you may think of its abilities, so we do want you to succeed educationally. But part of being able to do that is being able to exist on a social level, and maybe not necessarily be friends with your peers, but at least be willing to appease them from time to time. Not everything has to be a fight."

Carson didn't know what to say to that, so he simply said nothing, arms tightening their grip over his chest ever so slightly.

"If you want to go to university," the man continued after a lengthy pause, "you'll need to have letters of recommendation. Do you think you're superior to that somehow? You can just get in based purely on your academics? That's not how these things work."

Carson's teeth ground.

"I will take care of it."

"Unpopularity," Mr. Sendry said quietly after a moment, "is not a qualification. Schools prefer their students well-adjusted, or at the very least pleasant."

Carson stared at him furiously, then hastily stood.

"Is that all?"

Mr. Sendry smoothed his tie again.

"Please sit down."

"No."

"Carson-"

"No."

"…I can call the principal in here too, if that's what you want."

Carson stood firm for a second, then slowly sat down, glaring ahead. He wasn't about to get a mark on his completely clean record for this asshole.

"Thank you. Now, what it comes down to is this: the process here is a two-way street. I've spoken to a few of the students you have a more…tumultuous…relationship with already, and they've agreed to stop as long as you do."

"I never start it," Carson pronounced, voice firm and verging on deadly.

Mr. Sendry watched him silently for a moment, then rubbed a palm across his forehead.

"I can't help you then, I guess. You can leave. I won't stop you again."

"Gee, thanks," Carson bit out acidly, immediately standing and moving from the office, anger simmering.

Who the fuck did this school think they were?

He cast a caustic look to the walls as he went toward his seventh period english AP class, balling up his pass in his hand and then glancing a little ruefully at it as he reached the door to his class and realized it was so rumpled as to be nearly unrecognizable by now.

Well, fuck.

He rolled his eyes and knocked three times, making sure to not stand in the door's window, knowing that to be just another way of keeping himself locked out from experience.

A girl, Annabelle, he was pretty sure, answered his knock, her expression fading into a nervous stoicism at the sight of him, glancing behind her.

"Who is it?"

Jonah.

Joy.

Every time Mr. Campbell left the class he put his nephew, Jonah Campbell, in charge, which always resulted in chaotic periods of English that ended up being more along the lines of a theater or debate class period, neither of which Carson had taken for a reason. Not to mention that Jonah was fairly spineless, and the jackasses of the class walked all over him.

Usually Mr. Campbell, for all his faults, kept his class fairly free of any big distractions, and caught on to and quelled any class taunting. But Jonah wasn't quite as apt at ruling with an iron fist, despite his alarming resemblance to Napoleon.

Carson would often end up attempting to wrangle the classroom control to himself in order to get anything done, which always meant taking a ton of shit in exchange to get a few things done.

At least his physics class the period before was as characteristically awful as ever, since English would have a hard time being any worse.

"Carson Phillips," Anabelle answered slowly, casting Carson a vaguely apologetic look before moving away, just in time for Jonah to appear before the door, enthusiastic and relieved as he echoed Carson's name.

Behind him Eric and Miles were visible and exaggeratedly grimacing at the rest of the class. Because they weren't annoying enough in the three other periods he shared with them.

Carson stared for a moment, thoughts flying, then directed at Jonah:

"Is your uncle coming back?"

"Not until next period," Jonah responded instantly with a grin. "Why?"

"Hey, Carsona, is it true you're working Halloween night at Barnes and Noble?" Eric's voice called from within, and Carson scowled in at him before turning back to Jonah.

"Count me present, alright? Here's my pass."

Carson quickly placed his crumpled pass in Jonah's palm, then turned on his heel, calling back a sneering "Have fun".

He figured he could skip this one time, instead of dealing with the antics of his school's Bevis and Butthead. Besides, he'd get more done this way.

Fuck though, Carson mused as he ducked into a dark computer lab, Jesse might also just be a really bad influence.

He wasn't sure if the thought pleased or disturbed him, only that he'd really rather be doing this anyway. And it was strange to think that sometimes Jesse might have the right idea, instead of himself, but as long as it didn't become a habit…

His fingers fell into position over the keyboard and everything fell away as he typed and researched with a sensation of careless comfort settling in, nesting in the process as if it was his home and a small part of him linking this randomly to how Jesse must feel and connect with the stage.

The fact that he'd made the connection at all would, no doubt, rattle him with its implications, with the novel and unsettling sense of familiarity it entailed, but for now he just typed.

* * *

><p>Jesse loved few things more than he loved auditions.<p>

It helped that he was an expert at them.

Spring Awakening was everything he wanted and everything he was good at, and he was sure he'd get the part.

But he was still going to go at it with all he had.

Jesse wasn't willing to work at much, but anything theater and show choir got all the effort he had and more. Auditions were in just three weeks, and he had printed out the entire actual script, numerous monologues, and the sheet music to seventeen different songs. Soon to be twenty, once he managed to get to the store and buy a little more ink.

He couldn't wait to show them to Carson tomorrow, because Carson had amazing critiquing skills, brutal honesty, and he was pretty sure that it would lead to a different type of practicing and performing Jesse just so happened to also really enjoy.

He had no regrets about deciding to go to Barnes and Noble instead of the Halloween party.

"Jesse," Naomi exclaimed, bursting into the room.

He rose up on his elbows, staring at her from the bed.

"Yes?"

"You have competition."

His brow furrowed in a very Carson-esque expression.

"Excuse me?"

She tossed a newspaper at him, and bounced onto the bed beside him.

"Front page of the Theater and Screen Arts section."

Jesse scanned it once then again, before shooting her a look of annoyance.

"I've never even heard of this kid before."

Naomi sighed exasperatedly.

"Patrick Levinstein," she informed him. "He's a professional actor coming to this school with his friend, Chad Sullivan, who I _know_ you've heard of, since you're so obsessed with Broadway. They both plan on going out for the role as well."

Jesse's expression darkened.

"They won't get it. I _am_ Melchior, Naomi. It's mine. The audition is just a formality."

"Not anymore," Naomi responded sharply.

Jesse stared.

"This makes no sense."

Naomi surveyed him a moment, then shrugged.

"What can you do? I'm just glad I still only have Lisa and that Hannah girl to beat out for Wendla. And even if I don't make Wendla I'll still have Ilse as a perfect back up role."

Jesse rolled his eyes.

"There's no way Chad will be an issue. I am meant to play this role."

Naomi smirked.

"Of course you are. Besides, from what I hear, the guy's even shorter than you. But still. You might want to practice a bit more."

Jesse nodded thoughtfully.

"Oh I will. It would be great if I could add actually beating out a Broadway star for a role to my resume."

"It'd be even better," she mused aloud, a finger patting at her lips languidly, "if you could also add him as another notch on your bedpost. But you have a boyfriend now, so I guess that can't happen…"

Jesse scratched a hand through his curls, smiling a little.

"I am pretty much taken," he agreed quietly. "Otherwise, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I'm sure the tabloids would eat it up."

"You don't get closer to Hollywood than that."

And she was right. But Jesse liked the idea of being able to call Carson his boyfriend a little more than he did Hollywood at the moment, strange though that might be.

Still, he couldn't wait to at least prove his talent by blowing Chad Sullivan out of the water. That would also get him some definite credit, though more in the Broadway universe than in Hollywood. He would just have to find more audition potentials to go through with Carson at Barnes and Noble tomorrow night, and beforehand.

He couldn't wait.

* * *

><p>"Carson," Amy sang.<p>

Carson raised a brow.

"Yes?"

"Will you please focus? I need criticism!"

Carson sighed, glancing up at his step-cousin with a look of consternation.

"When did I become the go-to person for performance evaluating? I'm not an actor; I'm not a singer; and I'm very clearly not a dancer. Why don't you just ask one of your friends from the troupe? Or Andrew?"

"We're friends but we're also competitors," Amy explained impatiently. "And Andrew? Really? If there's anyone who will give me an honest constructive criticism it's you, and it's definitely not Andrew."

Carson groaned, conceding her point on that one. But still…

"Ames, sorry, but I know literally nothing about dance."

"Oh please," she snorted, a hand going to her hip, while the other bounced against her thigh. "Don't pretend you haven't researched it thoroughly. You're the only person I've never had to explain the meanings of dance terms to."

"I have to introduce you to Jesse at some point," he grumbled, not bothering to argue further. "He'd be a much better judge than me."

Amy beamed, taking the statement as his acquiescence, then reaching over as her phone began buzzing loudly on the table, flipping it open.

"And Ty's coming over soon!"

"Andrew's coming over soon too," Carson reminded her, and she nodded.

"We can postpone a half-hour and I'll get all of your opinions, then! This is going to be amazing!"

"This is going to be World War three," Carson corrected her with an amused grimace. "I take it you and Ty are on again?"

Amy nodded, a foot tapping with excitement.

"All my favorite guys in one place! Carson don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad you're working tomorrow night. You'd have never been able to be guilted into coming here instead of working if you didn't have to miss the usual Halloween party at Dad and Laura's."

Carson nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if making a decision, then pursed his lips, scratching at the top of his hand.

"By the way, I had to see the school counselor earlier…"

Amy's face fell slightly, and she moved immediately from the floor to the couch, curling up on its other side so that she could still face him.

"What happened?"

"It wasn't a big deal," he fronted with forced nonchalance. "Just annoying. That guy's such a dick.

Amy licked her lips hesitantly.

"What did he say?"

"Just a bunch of bullshit about how I should try fitting in more so there are less classroom disturbances of people being jerks to me. Apparently they'd rather me change than those assholes."

"Maybe," Amy began gingerly, also attempting a casual air, though failing miserably, "It would be good for both of you to change. We love you the way you are, but… fitting in doesn't have to be such a bad thing. They definitely are the ones that need to change their ways and need punishing and all that, but… Maybe the idea of it isn't all bad? Just ignore me. I don't know what I'm talking about. Want some fruit punch? Or… We might have some ginger-ale or something…"

Carson stared at her for a long moment, then ran a palm wearily over his face.

"Coffee is good."

"Carson… Come on. It's like six o'clock."

"All the more reason."

Amy paused, swallowing, then:

"Why did you have to go to the office? They've never done that before…"

"Forget it, Ames. How would I even know?"

"Okay then. Why are you working tomorrow? You didn't really tell us. Are they tied somehow?"

"Amy."

Amy moved closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

"This doesn't have anything to do with the stuff you responded to on facebook when Drew hacked you does it?" she asked quietly.

Carson was silent, pensive.

Amy bit her lip, then opened her mouth to continue when the doorbell rang, and, barely a second later, the door swung open.

Tyson Westley was gangly and good-looking, if very clearly of the hipster variety. His hair was a rusty, darkened shade of blond, and vaguely sideswept, messy at the back, and falling slightly into his eyes, hazel and wide beneath square-framed glasses, a guitar slung pseudo-casually against his back.

He eyed Carson suspiciously for a moment as he took in Amy's position, then smiled as he remembered who he was and the very distinct lack of threat he represented.

"Hey Ty," Amy exclaimed warmly and he grinned his greeting, turning to shut the door behind himself, despite the footsteps clearly audible coming up the walkway.

Carson could hear Andrew's growl as the door closed in his face and hid a smirk.

He'd never let them know, but there was a reason Amy and Andrew were able to "guilt" him into hanging out with them every Halloween, and now the night before. They were literally his favorite people in the world. And, grudging though it may be, he always found himself enjoying his time with them, though often in spite of many words to the contrary. Only they and Jesse had ever been able to peel him from his work as often and easily as they did. Of course, they were all infuriating in the meanwhile, but…

"I see you invited your boyfriend," Andrew deadpanned loudly from outside, and a rolling laugh followed cheerily.

"Drew just open the door again, babe. It's not that big of a deal!"

"Other than being incredibly rude," Andrew complained, again very loudly.

Not that it mattered much.

Amy shrieked a little, jumping from the couch and heading for the door.

"Sarah! Oh my God! I didn't know you were coming!"

Sarah beamed back at Amy, her face crinkling with pleasure as she entered.

"It's been ages!"

"It's been like two weeks," Andrew interjected, bemused. "At most."

"Tyson, this is Andrew's girlfriend Sarah. Sarah, this is-"

"Ty, right?" Sarah asked, offering him a diplomatic hand, even as her eyes traveled perceptively over him. "I've heard a lot about you. It hasn't all been good, but some has, so I guess we'll see. I always take anything Drew here says with a grain of salt."

Tyson eyed her hand.

"I'm not much for hand-shakes, because they form the foundation of someone's first impression usually, and I'd rather avoid that, since it could lead to misconceptions about me."

"He's a special little snowflake," Andrew announced, reaching forward and seizing Ty's hand, shaking it a couple times, and smirking as Tyson simpered, rubbing his hand over his jeans, ignoring the now sniggering Carson.

"I wouldn't say that, but it's fine. I won't deplete my own karmic reservoir arguing the point. I'm a Buddhist now, and I meditate three times a day so that I can keep up my inner peace. It's really a beautiful culture and religion, Andrew. I'm sure you could learn a few things from it."

"I'm sure we all could," Amy pronounced, going to his side. "I've actually started meditating a bit myself. It really has helped with my dance."

"She's so talented," Ty gushed immediately, and Andrew sighed, moving to sit next to Carson, one hand in Sarah's and taking her with him, Amy and Tyson slowly following.

"Carson," Sarah chirped, leaning to hug him. "I heard you were forced by your boss to work tomorrow, but I'm sure you're not willing to talk about it. If you are, though…"

"It's not a big deal," Carson reiterated to her, sighing. "It's good to see you. Amy, you do have coffee, don't you?"

Amy frowned in disapproval, but gestured toward the kitchen anyway.

"There's a pot waiting for you to brew already."

"I'll go with ya, C-man," Andrew grinned, getting up and offering Carson a hand that was duly ignored, completely as expected.

The pair made their way to the kitchen, Andrew immediately sliding into a chair and watching as Carson found the coffee pot and checked the filter, then added another teaspoon of coffee to it before he started up the machine.

"God that guy pisses me off."

"I'm aware," Carson retorted, sliding over and dropping into the chair next to Andrew. "I don't blame you. Although I'll give him that he's kind of funny, in a horrible, 'how full of it can one person be' sort of way."

"He reminds me of Jesse."

Carson gave him a look of mild horror.

"That's an awful thing to say."

Andrew grinned.

"It's true though. They're both full of themselves, and full of B.S."

"You haven't even met Jesse," Carson muttered irritably. "Do not put those images in my head."

"We've talked on facebook."

"You've argued on facebook," Carson corrected, and Andrew smirked.

"You're dating your own version of Tyson."

"I hate you. And they're nowhere near the same. First of all, horrible though it sounds, Jesse can actually back up every egotistical thing that comes out of his mouth. It's annoying how legitimately talented he is; That Tyson guy isn't actually talented in the least. Furthermore, that guy is so obviously fake he's like a spray tan come to life. Jesse spouts a lot of shit, but he's not hiding who he is."

Andrew looked at Carson for a long moment, the coffee machine gurgling noisily through their silence.

"You really do like him," he said finally, sitting back.

Carson didn't answer, and after another few minutes of watching him a little too shrewdly for Carson's tastes, Andrew palmed his head and reached the other hand out to thump Carson on the back.

"I haven't seen you like this before. Even when it was… Well, okay. Just know that I've got your back alright? And I'm not laying off the guy. He bugs me, and I'm not about to sit back and watch if I feel like you might get hurt."

Carson scowled, twisting his thumbs against one another.

"Even if Jesse was like that, which he's not, I can take care of myself."

"You can, but you don't have to. Sarah said I should give him a chance, though, so… I'm meeting him soon, if you guys keep up whatever it is you are. Are you even in a relationship? How serious is it?"

Carson flexed a few of his fingers, concentrating a little too hard on the movement.

"I don't know."

Andrew nodded, like it was more of an answer than it was.

"Let me know when you find out, okay C-man?"

Carson didn't respond, though they both knew it would happen either way, simply standing at the sound of the slowly halting drip of coffee.

"You want some?"

"I'm good," Andrew snorted, watching Carson pour himself a mug-full. "Can't wait to hear what douchebag has to say about coffee. He's a jackass, but it's pretty good entertainment watching him make a fool of himself. I still hope Amy dumps him soon though… She's too smart to keep doing this to herself."

Carson frowned into his mug, then shook it off, reluctantly following Andrew back to the living room.

"Oh, and Carson! Don't be surprised if we all drop by tomorrow! Don't want you alone all night with that shift."

Carson groaned, shifting his weight awkwardly before dropping into an arm chair.

"I won't be alone…"

"Jesse's joining you?" Amy asked loudly, grinning. "Aw!"

Carson cleared his throat a little awkwardly.

"Yeah… He kind of wanted to be around."

"Well, then I'll definitely drop by," Andrew informed him with finality.

Carson took a large gulp of coffee, avoiding their eyes.

Great. That wasn't at all a recipe for disaster…

* * *

><p>Jesse hummed loudly.<p>

"Are you sure you don't want to dress up?"

"I never dress up," Carson replied, casting a sideways glance at Jesse laying on his bed. "And once again, you're not really dressed up either."

Jesse gave him a look of affront.

"Yes I am!"

"Dressing as yourself doesn't count."

"When you're Jesse St. James, it does," Jesse grinned over at him.

Carson shook his head, lips twisting with amusement despite himself.

A knock sounded and they both looked up.

Carson frowned and stood, going to the door and opening it a crack, then starting back when it was pushed back towards him, thudding towards the wall.

Jesse straightened.

"Mom," Carson said, a bit too loudly from against the wall. "You're up?"

"Obviously, Carson," Sheryl Phillips replied, her forehead crinkling. "What are _you_ doing home? Don't you work today?"

Carson swallowed and nodded, hands jamming into his pockets.

"Yeah. I just don't go in yet. Uh…This is Jesse. I think I mentioned him."

He gestured stiffly toward Jesse, who jumped up from the bed and strode toward Sheryl, hand already outstretched.

"Jesse St. James, Mrs. Phillips. I see where Carson got his good looks then."

She shook his hand, looking completely bemused.

"Carson doesn't have friends."

Carson shifted his weight, clearing his throat.

"Only because I don't want them," he muttered, and his mom shot him a look.

"This is different, but good… Though- Jesse, right?- You don't talk like just a friend… Carson? I… Is there something you have to…." She trailed off, looking awkward, and gathered her sweater around her. "So! Jesse. Where are you from?"

Jesse smiled brightly at her, and Carson narrowed his eyes at him.

"Lima, Ohio. It's not very glamorous, I know. I go to UCLA now."

"Ah, a college kid. Carson's doing your work, then, isn't he? That's why you're here."

"Mom," Carson said lowly, and she glanced to him.

"What? No offense, kiddo, but this boy really doesn't seem like he's-"

"Mom."

"Carson, it's alright," Jesse spoke up, still with that bright smile trained on Carson's mom. "Carson has helped me a bit. He's really brilliant. But I like him for a lot more than that. He's kind of amazing. The second most amazing person I've ever met actually."

She gave him a look of complete bemusement.

"And who's the first?"

"Well, I should probably say you, but it's actually myself," Jesse admitted shamelessly, actually preening a little.

Carson groaned aloud, while Sheryl was unable to stop a loud burst of laughter.

"He's honest. I like it."

"Carson does too."

Carson shot Jesse a look of disbelief, and Sheryl turned to look squarely at him.

"Now, Jesse, if you don't mind," she said, eyes on her son, voice pleasant if a bit shaky, "I'd like to speak to my son. We should only be a few minutes. Carson?"

Carson flexed his fingers and swallowed, but nodded nonetheless, casting Jesse another, this time inscrutable, glance as he went, shutting the door quietly behind himself.

A moment passed as they walked silently down the hall, then ducking into another room. Mother and son looked at each other for a moment, before Carson cleared his throat, digging his hands back into his pockets with thumbs hooking out, his mother wrapping herself a little more firmly in her sweater.

"Mom… Ignore Jesse, alright? He's just like that. That's how he talks about everyone."

"Oh really?" she asked, looking at him, and a little bit through him. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes," Carson bit out and she sighed.

"Be honest with me- Are you gay now? I can see the way that boy was looking at you. Even if he always talks that way, I'm sure he doesn't always look at people that way. And you… You don't like people that act like that usually, so why else would you be hanging around with him in your spare time?"

Carson stared at her.

"I'm not gay," he said after a moment, quietly. "I don't know what I am. I've done some research, but… it's beside the point. Why does it matter? Would you kick me out if I was?"

"No," she said immediately, voice harsh, incredulous. "Is that what you think of me?"

He kept his gaze pinned to the wall just past her, swallowing audibly but otherwise offering no response.

She took a breath, deep and quavering, softening with a kind of emerging emotion halfway between continuing fury and anguish.

"I _just_ want to understand. You confuse me, Carson. I feel like I barely know you anymore. And this- this is just another brick in the wall."

"You've been listening to too much Pink Floyd," Carson muttered acidly, and her gaze on him grew sharper still.

"Carson."

His eyes flitted toward her then back to their place on the wall.

"Maybe you don't then."

"What?"

"Know me, mom. Maybe you don't. Maybe you haven't for a long time, and it's too late now. I can take care of myself. I always have. But what do you want me to do? Pretend just because you're having one of your random bouts of regret?" He paused, then sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean that."

"Yes, you do," she said, tone blank now. "You never say things you don't mean. Or maybe you do… I don't know though, so that must mean you're right. Do you want me to just leave you alone then?"

He didn't answer, and she sighed herself, arms tightening her sweater once more around her thin frame, one hand shuddering up to brush back a lank black curl then tucking back like a twitch.

She half-shrugged, neck and back pulling further in as if she were ducking back into herself, and turned away, pausing beside the door.

Carson saw and cleared his throat again.

"I- I think it's called pan. I don't know. But I don't really care. I've never been one for labels, mom."

She looked back at him, eyes dark, emotion unintelligible.

"I knew that. Always made it hard to call you my son. You don't act like one much at all."

Carson's face pinched.

"You're not much of a mom."

"I know," she agreed honestly. "I still love you, though, Carson. Okay?"

She walked out before he could reply.

Jesse sat up as the door opened and Carson's mom looked at him hard, then looked away, not making eye contact again as she spoke, voice hard but soft and coming fast.

"I don't know what's going on, and I don't know that I ever will. But our family's been through enough, so please don't put us through more unless you plan on sticking around through the mess."

She turned on her heel, sweater tighter around herself than ever, and retreated from the chaos back to her room, grabbing a beer on the way.

Jesse stared after her, only moving when Carson stepped into the doorway and shrugged at him, hands still deep in his pockets.

"What's a good costume, if I still have to look appropriate for work?"

Jesse grinned, going toward him and wrapping him in a hug.

"You can pull off going as yourself too, you know? In fact… maybe I should go as you."

"Oh no, Jesse," Carson groaned. "Please don't."

"Maybe we could go as each other!"

"I don't think I could handle the bad grammar usage it would take to pull off being you," Carson replied, smiling a little despite himself as he pulled back, and Jesse paused then smirked.

"Yeah, you probably couldn't."

Carson opened his mouth to ask the question that had been annoyingly on his mind for longer than he'd like to admit. But then he closed his mouth again, remembering his own words.

He really didn't like labels, nor did he need them.

He coughed instead and shrugged once again, raising a brow in Jesse's direction.

"It's almost time for my shift."

Jesse nodded, teasing his fingers through a few of his curls.

"Well, let's go then!"

* * *

><p><em>AN- Jarson needs reviews the way Rachel Berry and Tinkerbell need applause and the way Ty needs therapy and/or tact. Just sayin'. ;)  
><em>


	8. Chapter 8 Treat To Trick

**In An Instant**

Chapter 8: Treat To Trick

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

**WORD COUNT: 5,472  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Treat to Trick<p>

Jesse strolled between the shelves of books, running a finger over them.

Apparently Barnes and Noble had an entire section devoted purely to arts-related stuff, including books on auditioning, acting, monologues, songs, the "nuances" (a word he was definitely planning to use in front of Carson later) of musical theatre, and, to his glee and Carson's complete bemusement, show choir.

Jesse was pretty sure he wasn't going to be bored.

It also helped that other than Carson the place was by now almost entirely deserted, and one of Carson's coworker's had insisted despite Carson's pleading warnings on giving Jesse a tour, one that included showing him the PA and stereo systems, and how they worked.

Jesse had already come up with thirteen different announcements to do and done two, as well as doing his vocal warm-ups.

The coworker, some Claire girl, had left pretty hurriedly after that.

Jesse set a stack of books down on a table with a grin, plopping down into a leather armchair and seizing one promptly, withdrawing a notebook.

"I feel like I'm looking into a mirror…"

"Do you want to do a mirroring activity with me, then?" Jesse asked excitedly, glancing up at Carson from the book.

"Not particularly," Carson replied, smirking and dropping into a chair of his own, slouching back and releasing a long sigh. "I hate people."

"I guess it's good I'm not just people, then," Jesse announced smugly, going back to his book on musical auditions.

"I guess so," Carson said after a moment, laying his head back. "I need to restock the shelves…"

"I think you need coffee," Jesse informed him, still reading and taking notes. "Want me to go get some from next door?"

A pause, then: "…Please?"

Jesse nodded easily, setting aside the book he'd picked up and lurching to his feet with an easy grin.

"Your wish is my command."

"Are you a genie now?"

"Maybe…Which reminds me! You know that moment in Aladdin-"

"Jesse, I haven't seen it," Carson informed him wearily, and Jesse gaped at him.

"How deprived _was_ your childhood?"

"Oh, jeez… Weren't you going to get us coffee?"

"Seriously," Jesse continued, very much seriously himself, "What Disney movies have you seen, Carson? This is important. You are later what you watch!"

"Then, I'd hate to think what you watched…"

"Carson," Jesse said, oddly stern, and Carson stared back, completely bemused.

"Jesse."

"Come on! I don't know enough about little-Carson!"

Carson groaned loudly.

"Why do you need to know anything about 'little-Carson', Jesse?"

"If we're going to be in a relationship-"

They both froze, looking at each other.

The word lingered in the air.

There was a heavy pause and then a bell sounded through the store and a gaggle of what looked like middle-schoolers wandered in. Carson looked between them and Jesse a moment, oddly torn, then offered Jesse a weak smile that was more of a grimace and jumped up, moving toward the group to offer his assistance.

Jesse stared after him, frowning, then shook his head and put on a smile, picking up the book again.

Carson had looked freaked, but he hadn't looked angry or like he thought it was a joke.

He'd choose to take that as a good sign.

* * *

><p>Carson pressed a hand to his throbbing forehead, watching as the group of preteens moved through the aisles, gossiping and giggling excitedly amongst themselves, picking out the scariest books they could find as they discussed the costume change and trick or treating they'd do once they were done killing time in the book store. It was sad, really, that reading was just seen as a way to kill time before fun, but it was more sad that Carson kind of wished they'd kill time elsewhere.<p>

At the same time, though, he was glad they'd come because he really needed time to think about…

He and Jesse might or might not be in a relationship, and it all pretty much depended on what he wanted, now, because Jesse had just for all intents and purposes declared that he actually wanted to be with Carson, and in a real couple way, not just with sex and that sort of thing in mind.

Honestly, it scared Carson. New, unfamiliar territory, where he wouldn't really be the expert. Not to mention that a relationship with Jesse of all people was just asking to be hurt.

It was different before, because he'd assumed they either were or they weren't together after the date the other night. Now he was more aware that it was an actual choice, one that Jesse had already made and was now waiting on Carson's deciding vote.

Carson liked responsibility and control and being in charge- that much was obvious to anyone.

The problem here was that he couldn't seem to decide the right reaction.

Because Carson wanted to be with him, but he really didn't want to want that.

It was the same argument he'd been having with himself for weeks.

Someone loudly cleared their throat and looked up to see the group of kids in the checkout line, a few of them whispering and glancing at him, while the others, towards the front of their little line, raised eyebrows at him, one smirking, the other just seeming anxious to get out.

Carson forced a smile.

"Sorry about that. Will this be all?"

He started to check them out, when another voice, a boy's, spoke up: "Aren't you that Carsona kid? My brother talks about you."

"It's Carson," Carson replied distractedly, with only the slightest edge of irritation, still busily scanning the books.

"My brother's name is Miles Eggart," the boy announced, moving forward and putting his elbows on the checkout counter, looking curiously at Carson. "Do you know him? Or is it another Carson?"

"I know him," Carson said honestly, sighing. "Am I ringing all of this up together?"

"Yeah, we're pooling our money," a girl at the front informed him. "I'm Abigail, by the way. I'm thirteen, but I'll be fourteen soon…"

Carson's brow furrowed.

"That's nice, Abigail."

She giggled, and the girl next to her snickered.

"He's too old for you, Abby, come on," a boy behind Abigail hissed just a little too loudly, and Abigail's eyes widened, an elbow shooting back.

"That hurt," the boy exclaimed. "You know, you're not wearing the slutty witch costume yet!"

"I'm practicing," she sniffed back, and the girl beside her shot the rest of the group a grin.

"Oh my God."

"Guys, come on! We have to get ready and my brother's waiting outside."

"Yeah, Abby, wouldn't you rather hit on _him_ anyway?"

"My brother's an asshole, isn't he?" Miles' little brother asked cheerily and Carson turned his disconcerted gaze back to the boy.

"Yeah… Um, okay, the total is-"

"Here's a thirty. You can keep the change," Abigail announced, shoving four fives and a ten onto the counter and grinning a little too brightly.

"It's actually 31.56…"

"Well, then…" she fished through her purse until her friend sighed loudly and handed over a five.

Abigail practically threw the five onto the counter, and then herself.

Carson scratched above his eye, unsure.

"I'll give you the change back," he informed Abigail's friend, but the girl just shook her head hastily. "That's alright. We have to leave. Come _on_ guys!"

The group swiftly dissipated, heading toward the doors with their bags, chattering loudly, only Abigail glancing back at him.

Miles' younger brother, however, had actually hung back.

"My brother and some of his friends were talking about coming here," the boy said quickly after a beat of silence. "They're all assholes. They keep putting me in head locks and calling me jerk-off because they found some of the pamphlets they gave us during sex-ed week at school."

Carson grimaced at him.

"The guy's a douche," he said after another moment.

"I just wanted to give you a heads up. I'm Ben, by the way. Don't tell him I told you? He'd kill me. They said they're planning something, but I didn't get to find out what. So, uh…"

"Thanks… You might want to catch up with your friends though," Carson said awkwardly, trying his best to keep from snapping at the kid that was actually, weird as it was, helping him out. Ben nodded.

"Yeah, you're right. Okay! Bye! Good luck!"

And he ran out.

"Are you cheating on me with a thirteen year old?" A voice boomed over the intercom, and Carson shot a look at the ceiling.

"Jesse! What the fuck are you doing?" he called out.

"I'm hotter than either of those kids were!"

"They're kids," Carson retorted loudly with a shake of his head, opening the register to begin counting everything out. "Hotness is nonexistent, pervert."

"You might want someone closer to your age, though," Jesse's voice whined over the intercom still and Carson closed the register with a sigh, deciding to just count it out later, moving from behind the counter and beginning to move through the store in search of his...

"Jesse…You're not even two fucking years older than me. I think your roommate's girlfriend is brainwashing you with her nicknames for me. And they were like more than three years younger. That's sick. Also! Will you get off the goddamn intercom already? …Where even are you?"

The last was said with exasperated bemusement as Carson checked the employee break room again to no success.

Jesse evil-laughed over the intercom and Carson was unable to stop a genuine laugh of his own from bubbling out.

"Seriously, Jesse! Where the fuck did you go?"

"You'd win every best-ass contest ever held, do you realize that?"

Carson spun on his heel, and arched a brow in the new direction he was facing.

"You know, if a customer came in and you were on there, I'd be in so much trouble!"

"Could I _spank_ you then?" Jesse's voice was saucy and very obviously teasing, but that made it no better when a moment later-

"Um…"

"Oh, fuck," Carson groaned, turning to face the door. How had he not heard the bell?

Andrew was staring at him, looking more than a little mortified.

Carson reddened.

Beside him, Amy was giggling like a lunatic, and Sarah was just barely keeping her cool, her smile humongous and twitching with laughter.

"Because, you know, with that ass-"

"Jesse, off the intercom now," Carson yelled, and a crash sounded through the store. Carson groaned, rubbing his palm across his forehead.

"Are you alright?" he called out after a moment, sighing.

"Yeah! Awesome! My talent's like an unbroken hymen!"

"Amy, why don't you go hang out with your boyfriend in the car before you wet yourself?" Andrew sighed, and Amy nodded hastily, darting forward to hug Carson and manage a "love you" between giggle fits before beating her escape, the door swinging closed just as Jesse burst into view, grinning.

Carson cast him a deadpan look.

"My cousin and his girlfriend are here," he informed Jesse reluctantly, and Jesse immediately turned toward them.

"Hi. It's Jesse St. James. Andrew, isn't it? I've talked to you on facebook."

"Yes, yes you have," Andrew retorted, looking unimpressed, and Sarah snorted beside him, offering her hand, which Jesse promptly shook.

"Did you hear any of that?"

"Oh no, not at all. The intercom actually made it so only Carson could hear you."

"Is there a way to do that?" Jesse asked Carson, looking deeply intrigued.

"Actually-" Sarah started pleasantly, and Carson shot her a look of deep horror.

"Sarah."

"Carson."

"Jesse," Jesse volunteered. "I've always wanted to do that since I saw it in Shrek."

"Jesse," Carson sighed, at the same time as Andrew said, "Carson…"

"Andrew," Sarah interjected, giving Jesse a conspiratorial grin.

"I'm not doing this," Carson said decidedly, stepping back.

"Please tell me you're not actually in a relationship with this guy and it was just the one date…" Andrew said quietly, though not quite quietly enough.

Jesse scowled, cocking his head.

"You know, my talent in performing isn't only on stage or in bed. I also always put on a good show smacking people down like the hand of God."

The bell above the door rang and they all turned as one to face the girl entering, who shifted awkwardly.

"Um… I just wanted a book…but, uh, I'll come back later…?"

"No, I can take care of it," Carson exclaimed and the girl laughed nervously.

"No, no… That's alright…" And backed out of the door.

Carson turned to fix them all with a glare.

"Do you want to all get me fired? I'm already on thin ice here as it is! Jesse, if you're going to be West Side Story with Drew, can you please either do it in the back or outside, where I can't be held accountable?"

"Sorry, Carson," Sarah voiced immediately. "We actually do have that party to go to anyway, and we don't need to be fashionably late for it- we really don't, Andrew."

Andrew frowned.

"I hate being early."

"Isn't it better than getting your cousin fired?"

"…Jesse started it… Yeah, okay. We'll get out of your hair, C-man."

Sarah and then Drew both gave him hugs, Sarah telling Jesse sensibly that it was nice to meet him while Andrew very blatantly ignored him.

"C-man? Like semen?" Jesse asked, grinning again, once the door had shut behind them.

"Don't ask," Carson retorted.

"Okay," Jesse replied promptly and easily, and Carson frowned suspiciously at the quick acceptance, until: "Then, can I ask something else?"

"Jesse-"

The bell rang again, and another group entered, but this one was very clearly comprised of high-schoolers.

Miles and Jonathan were heading the gang.

"Fuck," Carson muttered and Jesse's brow wrinkled.

"Where do I recognize…"

"Oh my gosh, he has his gay lover with him," Jonathan announced, voice venomously high pitched. "Have we interrupted your threesome with the books, Carsona?"

"Yeah, I heard you were molesting them, but I didn't realize you were able to get it up on dudes and molest them now too. Wow. I'm surprised there haven't been any complaints made- Oh. Wait."

"If anything, I've been molesting _him_," Jesse informed them all, smug and loud, and Carson turned to glower at him.

"Jesse, your timing really sucks-"

"Wow, how much head have you given him, Carsona?"

"None, yet," Jesse informed them. "Though I'd love to give him some. Together, our hotness would probably end up exploding the entire earth though, so we're holding off."

"Or, maybe, Carsona just can't get it up for anything that's not books, like the pathetic nerd he is."

"Or he doesn't have anything to get up period."

"Oh, we all know that no-one has less down there than you, Scott," Carson snapped. "You're pretty much the real life version of a Ken doll. Don't forget that I took gym with you sixth grade through tenth."

"Whatever, gay-face. You starting puberty anytime soon? Maybe we can help you along."

"I'm surprised being with all these books he hasn't sprung one."

"Maybe he has one, and we just can't tell."

"Well, we can all tell you have," Jesse spoke up, eyes on Wyatt's crotch. "Talking about Carson's dick _really_ turns you on, doesn't it?"

"We just dropped by," Wyatt said loudly, reddening slightly, "to say hi before the huge party we're going to. Cool people only. But we'll be back later, no worries." He smiled.

"Well, I'd hate for you to interrupt my boyfriend and I making out against the bookshelves."

"And I'd hate for the books to complain again, but it's better that they report it when they're being raped like that, don't you think, Carsona? See ya! And your…_boyfriend_, too, I guess."

The remnants of the group lapsed into snickers and high-fives, making their way out of the store.

Carson stared after them a moment, then blew out a breath.

"Boyfriend, huh?"

Jesse glanced at him.

"Carson, you-"

"You're really going to say that to them before either of us say it to each other?"

"Carson," Jesse repeated, but Carson simply cleared his throat, hooking his thumbs into the pockets.

"I'm not a damsel in distress in a Disney movie, Jesse, and I don't need you to come to my rescue. I had it handled."

"That was handling it?" Jesse asked, anger seeping into his voice. "You might as well have bent over for them."

"Jesse, do you realize that I'm supposed to be working?" Carson asked after a moment. "That was literally the most I could do without really risking my job! I'm on the cusp of being fired, St. James. I don't want to lose my job just to exchange jabs with a bunch of losers that will harass me at school anyway. And on top of that, I asked you to come here because for some reason I thought it would make working this crap shift a little bit easier, but now it's just making me more stressed. Jesse, you just gave a group of my worst classmates some really personal information- it will be all over the goddamn place before they get back here, which they're apparently going to do and I just-"

"Carson, did you even hear what they were saying? That was worse than the way my old show choir's choreographer talked to everyone else during dance rehearsals."

"Yes, I heard it Jesse," Carson said severely, finally turning to face him. "But I also heard you referring to me as your boyfriend in an attempt to one-up a bunch of ambition-less morons, when we hadn't even discussed what our…status…was, with each other! What does that say to you, St. James?"

"I wanted to show them how stupid they were being saying stuff like that about you," Jesse retorted angrily. "And if you don't want to be with me, then you can just say it. I was just saying it to defend you. I still wanted to talk later."

"I have work to do," Carson said quietly, as if he was telling himself as well as Jesse. Then, again, "I have work to do."

"So what?" Jesse asked, sounding weirdly furious. "You always have to work, Carson. I have stuff to do, too. I have auditions coming up, and I wanted your help deciding what pieces to use."

Carson gave him a hard look.

"Jesse, I can't afford to get any more complaints. I will be _fired_." He drew in a breath as Jesse scowled at him, raising his head in his almighty way, motions fueled with drama.

"Jesse, I think I made a mistake in judgment having you here. You should go."

By the time he'd completed the first sentence the door of Barnes and Noble was already slamming shut.

Carson finished to an empty store, then swallowed, gritted his teeth, and went to count the money in the register.

* * *

><p>"Jesse! What are you doing here?"<p>

"Does it matter? I'm a celebrity! I'm fashionably late! Lead me to the drunk!"

"Um," Naomi laughed. "I think you already found it, but I can lead you to some more?"

"That too," Jesse grinned, leaning heavily against her. "I'm a drinking star. And a sexy star. And an everything star. I wanna prove it to Chuck, since Casper isn't a friendly ghost. Lead me to the midget!"

"Jesse, did you find drugs too?"

"Rock star lifestyle," Jesse mused. "I haven't, but maybe I should."

"Let's not and say we did," Naomi laughed. "Baby! Jesse's here!"

"But Seth's drunk and I got him to make out with a girl," Lucas exclaimed, moving toward them. "If he sees Jesse- Why are you even here? Didn't you have a babysitting gig tonight?"

"Carson's too intimidated by my hotness so he refused to be my boyfriend," Jesse informed him drunkenly, and Lucas frowned.

"That sounds…improbable. I'd hate to feed your ego, but you're kind of extremely out of the kid's league, from what I've seen of him."

"Not true," Jesse said immediately. "We're in the same league."

"Why don't you hook up with someone?" Naomi asked through a giggle.

"Jealousy's totally like oysters and chocolate, so maybe that'd work," Jesse mused, giving Naomi a look of awe, as if he hadn't been saying much the same mere moments earlier, and Lucas snorted.

"It's an aphrodisiac, dickbrain. Go get yourself laid. You obviously need it. I think there's even less blood in your upstairs head than usual."

"Okay, okay! Naomi, where's the Chester guy?"

"It's Chad," she informed him, shouting over the loud blast of music and looking positively gleeful, "and I don't know. But you also have the options I told you about before. Just find someone, Jesse, okay? It'll make you feel better rocking someone's world."

"Yes. Yeah. I'm a world rocker and a bed rocker and a stage rocker and a bed rocker and a world rocker and…and a bookstore rocker… Naomi, get me more drunk! I ran out of my stash already."

"You're an alcoholic," Jesse told Lucas after a beat, who looked down at the red cup in his hand.

"This is actually only my second cup, and it's water," he informed him. "But if you say that to the mirror you might actually have a point."

"I'd get too distracted by my hotness and start making out with it, instead," Jesse grinned. "Liquor me up, bitches! And then I'll lick her up! And send pictures to Carson! And… Okay, okay, no let's tap that, guys, please."

"Oh my God, I love drunk-Jesse," Naomi murmured to Lucas who nodded, grinning as well despite himself.

"He's like a clueless, narcissistic puppy humping everyone's legs," Lucas whispered back, and they giggled, then kissed, then fell to the couch, Jesse forgotten.

Jesse ran his fingers along the tip of the beer tap fixatedly.

"Jesse, isn't it?"

Jesse turned.

A girl with red hair, square-frame black glasses, and a cat costume was staring at him.

"See?" he laughed. "Everyone knows my name!"

She raised her eyebrow and grabbed a red cup, placing her fingers around Jesse's to squirt some beer into it from the tap.

"It's Mary. Naomi mentioned introducing us."

Jesse gaped at her.

"You're the facebook girl! You said I was overestimating myself."

"And you said you'd prove me wrong," she said, tilting her head and placing her hand on her hip. "So?" She tossed back some beer and he watched her, fascinated.

"Do you want to screw?" he asked after a moment and she laughed.

"How about we just screw around first? Then we can see about cutting the around. Sound good?"

"It's more than Carson offered," he muttered, drinking his beer like a shot, then filling the cup once more. He finished it off before he and Mary could even reach a bedroom, and was already craving more.

He didn't think he could do this, but he really, really wanted to.

And Carson…

Mary tugged him into a room and gave him a questioning glance.

Casting his eyes to the mirror, Jesse then tugged her to the bed, doing his best to pretend his mind wasn't still stuck in a bookstore with a guy who wouldn't call himself his boyfriend.

Why did that sound so much more stupid now?

Jesse shoved the thought back, and did his best to focus on the here and now, the bedroom and the baring of skin.

It didn't stop him from running to the bathroom to throw up a half-hour later.

It was the worst Halloween ever.

And there was whisker paint and red lipstick all over him.

* * *

><p>He'd literally been in the bathroom cleaning the place up for twenty damn minutes.<p>

He'd already started closing, including putting the sign up and locking doors, so it really shouldn't have been a problem.

Of course, he'd forgotten that the jackasses from his school had been going to a party where they'd probably meet up with others, others like his ever-popular coworker who happened to not have much of a spine, but very much had a key to the store.

He was going to kill Claire.

Barnes and Noble was one of those places that got into the holiday spirit. Being a book store, an ever dying business, meant that they needed to go all out and up the ante whenever possible. So, of course, they'd had the store decked out with all manner of Halloween paraphernalia, including a ridiculous amount of pumpkins, all of which were now either smashed or sporting pornographic drawings and condoms on their stems. Books were off shelves, and the three baskets of candy around the store had all been emptied into one of the baskets shaped like a jack-o-lantern on the outside given to the really young trick-or-treaters, that had a dick on the outside of it. 'For you, Deepthroat. Enjoy ;)' was scrawled on a note that was tacked to the wall above the thing.

Seriously- Fuck his life.

Carson was just really glad Jesse wasn't around to see this. Or Andrew, Amy, and Sarah.

It was fucking humiliating.

And, of course, he'd already turned off most of the lights, as well as powered down the security system so that only a few of the cameras were up. And if Claire had helped with this at all, she'd probably also made sure no-one got caught. Thus the timing.

This was such complete bullshit.

Instead of wasting time being outraged, though, Carson just rolled his eyes at the juvenile mess and went to grab more cleaning supplies from the stock-closet.

It was going to be another all-nighter, because once he finished fixing up the store again and closing, he was going straight home to work.

First, he'd finish that article, of course. But that wouldn't take long. And then he'd move to his newest self-assignment; Carson had always had a talent when it came to creative revenge, after all, and his creativity was practically bursting after this latest stunt.

People really ought to stop underestimating him…

As he cleaned, his irritation simmered softly and a plan slowly began to take formation, but, besides that, he became aware of a yearning for more than revenge, more than sleep, more than a desire for peace from all the crap everyone insisted on throwing at him- he wished Jesse was here.

He didn't, of course, because fuck he really hated the idea of Jesse seeing this, and Jesse really was distracting, and he was definitely angry with him- but, despite all this, part of him, as the fire licking his insides burnt down to a more quiet, low kindling of injustice and annoyance, missed Jesse nonetheless. No matter what he'd said, Jesse somehow did manage to make him feel a little bit lighter.

He wasn't going to go running toward him, but maybe their fight was just feeling more and more dumb the more he thought about it and…

Carson really just didn't know.

He sighed, finally locking the store's doors behind him for the last time as he lugged trash bags to the dumpster, and then drew his keys from his pocket and moved toward his car.

He didn't know, but he'd figure it out. And in the meantime, he'd maybe, scary and ridiculous and truly annoying though it was, like to have Jesse around while he did.

Maybe it was time to just tell him? Carson nodded to himself, starting his car.

He and Jesse would just have to legitimately talk, apparently.

And maybe after that Jesse could help him get that revenge, though Carson definitely didn't plan on telling him the whole story… Part of it though, would be fine. For what he had in mind, Jesse helping him out might well be perfect.

There were a lot of things that, odd though it felt, may well be…

* * *

><p>Carson very rarely was the one to call Jesse.<p>

He was usually so very absorbed in whatever he was doing that he a)lost track of time, b) decided that completing whatever he was doing was more important than talking to anyone (or eating or sleeping or using the bathroom), or c) all of the above, in addition to completely forgetting his phone existed in the first place. If it weren't for the fact that he occasionally exchanged text messages with members of the journalism class relating to the newspaper (if reminding someone about a deadline or addition to an assignment and being replied to with an all-caps "fuck you" could really count for that), he'd probably forget his phone somewhere and take weeks to realize its disappearance.

So, basically, for Carson to call someone was something of a miracle, and for him to do so over anything that wasn't business related was even more of one.

And after a fight- forget about it. You were not considered worth the effort of a 50-second call.

All of which was why when Jesse's phone went off and Carson's name flashed across its screen, Jesse simply stared, disbelieving, until it stopped ringing.

And then, because he wasn't shocked enough, just as he went fumbling with his phone to call Carson back- it started ringing again.

Jesse didn't even let the first ring finish before he answered.

"Carson?"

"Jesse."

There was a heavy pause, then Carson sighed into the phone.

"Can we meet? We need to talk…"

Jesse's eyes widened in horror.

Those were the break-up words…Of course, apparently he and Carson hadn't even actually been together but… Of course, if anyone could stop someone from dumping them, it was Jesse St. James. He'd actually never been broken up with, and he couldn't start now. But he didn't want to "dump" Carson, either. Which meant meeting would be good, and he'd have to turn the charm _way_ up. And probably bring both a dictionary and thesaurus…

Whatever it took. Jesse wasn't about to give up.

"Jesse? Are you still there?"

Carson's determination, though, was a fairly even match for his own. So, he'd have to go all out to have any hope.

"Jesse. I can still hear you breathing. If you don't answer in the next five seconds, I'm hanging up," Carson grumbled, and Jesse blinked.

"In bed?"

"What?"

"…Where do you want to meet?"

Carson snorted.

"Of course you automatically think of a bed. You really need to start attending sex-addicts anonymous meetings, Jess."

Jess.

Maybe they were okay, after all. Or maybe Carson was letting him down easy. Like when you were planning to kill someone, so you started being _really_ nice to them beforehand.

Carson was totally the type to trick someone who had pissed them off into thinking things were fine before he attacked, too. He was clever that way. Damn it.

"Jesse, did I interrupt something, because you're never this silent? Unless you're looking up porn again. I told you after last time-"

"I'm not," Jesse interrupted, grinning despite himself. "And I could never go to sex-addicts anonymous meetings. Stars like me can't be anonymous, Casper. I thought you were good at logic."

Carson gave another of his derisive little snorts.

"I'm not even going to try to explain all the things that were wrong with that sentence. The usual Starbucks?"

Jesse frowned. Coffee was always good, but… It would be harder to fully woo him back there…

"Why don't you come over, instead?" he asked, and Carson was silent a moment before giving his acquiescence.

"Time?"

"How about in two hours?" Jesse asked, glancing at his computer's clock and reluctantly closing a window of pornographic pictures when he remembered that he really had been looking up porn again. Oops. "Two- or three, even. It's up to you." He needed time to get ready…

"I'll see you in three then," Carson agreed. "I have to finish up a few articles. And I have one of your assignments for you, if you want?"

"Excellent," Jesse grinned, his full confidence restored.

Three hours to make this place Carson seduction perfect. Jesse could definitely pull that off.

He happened to have ordered some stuff after their first date that would make him beyond impossible to resist. He'd been saving it to spring on Carson a bit later, but… Well, he needed it sooner than expected and that was fine. Grand gestures and all that. And after last night… Well, he didn't actually remember much. And technically they hadn't been together. But Jesse was still pretty sure he'd have to pull all the stops to get with Carson fully for real this time, and because he knew he'd done something, and, even though he was pretty sure it didn't really count, he felt like he needed to make it up to Carson anyway.

"Jesse? Okay. I'm hanging up now. I'll see you later."

"See-" the line cut off, but Jesse's smirk stayed anyway.

He totally had this.

* * *

><p><em>AN - So, for this author's note we'd like to ask you some questions, instead of our usual witty comment. Here goes:_

_1. How much do you absolutely loathe Carson's classmates?  
>2. What's your position on the Jarson argument? Are you taking sides? Why?<br>3. __Ben is totally awesome, right? No, that's not a serious question, we just needed to point it out. You go Ben.  
>4. What are your thoughts on what Jesse did after the fight? Can it be forgiven or no? Why?<br>5. __What do you think Jesse has up his sleeve for this "Carson seduction?" ;)_

_And that's all! Also, a special shout out to a few people: First off, to the wonderful Mary who let us so kindly use her name for one of the characters. (Which she's nothing like herself.)_ _We love you Mary._  
><em>And to one of our more recent supporters, Kim! You're awesome Kim, and we can't thank you enough for being s<em>o _supportive!  
>Last<em> _but definitely not least, thank you to ALL of our followers, readers, and reviewers! WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH. 3_


	9. Chapter 9 Seduction

**In An Instant**

Chapter 9: Seduction

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

**WORD COUNT: 6,327**

* * *

><p>Oddly enough, even now Carson didn't feel awkward, though he was sure he should. Instead, he gave the door two strong, powerful knocks and took a few steps back to lean against the wall behind himself, an eyebrow arching as he watched the doorway, listening to the sound of clattering inside. And then music started up and he had to hold back an amused smirk, because <em>of course<em>. Just, really, of course.

Jesse opened the door with a look of nonchalance, a smile crinkling his face momentarily at the sight of Carson but quickly brushing back into his confident front of stoicism. Carson rolled his eyes, but pushed off from the wall anyway, following Jesse into the dorm.

"You kicked your roommate out, I take it?"

"Lucas volunteered actually. He had some sci-fi nerd marathon with Seth planned."

Carson paused, then: "Oh? What show?"

"Starfence," Jesse said surely, and Carson snorted.

"I think you mean Stargate…Uh, Jesse?"

"What's up?"

Carson's voice was droll, and a little bemused.

"What's with the candles?"

Jesse grinned, sprawling back on his bed.

"You like them, don't you? I figured you would. Why don't you check out the desk, actually? There might be some stuff there you'll find interesting…"

Carson's brow drew together but he threw a glance toward the desk anyway, then barked out a loud laugh, head shaking, and went to it, picking up the stack of books on its surface with something like a grin.

"Faulkner, huh? The Sound and the Fury. Don't tell me- you've done a duet scene by David Ives for sold out theaters. …Jane Austen, Jesse? And Charlotte and Emily Bronte. What's with the classic romance? I've got to tell you Jesse, I'm really not interested in being the Heathcliff to your Catherine, no matter how romantic you think it is or how much you think it would show off your 'clearly vast array of talents'."

"How about the Kat Stratford to my Patrick Verona?" Jesse asked with a smug look, eyebrows wiggling a little.

Carson frowned.

"What? Okay, I know that there's no way you've taken up Herman Melville. Jesse, it might say Dick in the title, but Captain Ahab is probably not hung like a horse, and he's definitely not going to be having any romances seeing as his only company is a whale and if beastiality was actually highlighted here there's no way it would be listed as a penguin classic."

"That's the smell of books, by the way," Jesse said abruptly. "Turn you on?"

Carson gave a loud laugh.

"Jesse, I wanted to talk, not have sex."

"With us aren't those the same things?" Jesse mused with a sly smirk and Carson shook his head, tucking the stack of books under his arm and going to join Jesse on his bed.

"Is that what all this is then? An elaborate seduction?"

"Yes," Jesse admitted shamelessly. "Is it working? Should I sing?"

Carson pursed his lips, pushing the books onto the bed spread next to him and laying back, eyes sliding sideways to glance at Jesse's profile, then back to the ceiling.

"No. But we _should_ talk."

Jesse sighed.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

There was a thick pause, then, slowly, each syllable carefully pronounced, Carson asked: "Is there anything to break?"

* * *

><p>"Seth."<p>

Seth glanced up at Lucas, then back down at his lap.

"What's up? You ready for the marathon?"

""You wanna tell me?"

Seth frowned down at his lap, shrugging a little. His forehead was wrinkled, hands making subtle wringing motions against one another.

"I'm not putting Stargate on yet, though. There's still like ten minutes of this, Luke. And I thought you were bringing popcorn."

Lucas sighed, flopping onto the bed beside him.

"When's Landon coming back?" And Seth shrugged again, listless. His dark eyes drilled the ceiling, as Lucas's drilled holes in the side of his head.

"Seriously. Why is this thing with St. James affecting you so much?" Lucas asked finally, and Seth's head lolled to the side, eyes on his friend now, heavy with exhaustion and hurt.

Lucas scowled.

"He's not worth this. I should know. I live with the guy. I don't care whether you're gay or not, even though I really don't know how you are since you had the biggest crush ever on Naomi before she and I started dating, and you were in love with that Bridget girl when we met, not to mention that you were pretty enthusiastic with that Hailey girl at the Halloween bash. But if you're really all converted… Just, he's not worth that, man. And you're way too cool for a jackass like that."

Seth shook his head and swallowed hard.

"I'm not. Jesse's everything I want to be."

"Exactly," Lucas shot back, lying down hard in his irritation, the bed springs wincing beneath him. "He's what you want to be. Not what you want."

Seth glowered, arms clutching together now across his chest, making an arcing, angry shield about himself.

"They can be the same thing, sometimes."

Lucas sighed, closing his eyes.

"He and that Carson kid are hanging out and talking tonight. The kid's there now. That's why I came over early. Seth, man, I really think for whatever reason he's here to stay."

"That's fine," Seth muttered noncommittally. "Whatever. Will you just get the popcorn? I wanna finish this movie before we start marathon-ing."

Lucas yawned, but rolled off the bed anyway.

"Yeah, sure, I got it."

He came back fifteen minutes later with popcorn and a hickey, having gone to his girlfriend's to use the microwave and serendipitously met her on his way out. She'd promised to drop by after her class and his mood was markedly better.

But, stepping back into Seth's dorm, the tension was still there, and his shoulders ended up again in a slump.

They started off the marathon, and Lucas fought against an urge to go and yell at Jesse, because this used to be so much more fun before his roommate had messed with his best friend's head.

Secretly, he hoped this Casper kid and Jesse really did fix things now- he didn't think Seth could get over Jesse any other way. But he also had to hate them both on principle, Carson more so since Jesse was his roommate- all of which complicated things. Either way, he was worried a bit… Jesse had a habit of screwing up his own social life unintentionally, his ego blinding him. And Lucas actually couldn't have them breaking up; he'd thought for a while that it would be better if they were, but he'd realized the other night that it'd be better for everyone involved if they stayed together. He resented the kid, and doubted he'd ever like him, but if him sticking around was what it took to fix the mess of shit they were all in these days, Lucas would do whatever it damn well took.

…He still didn't like Casper though. Not in the least.

But maybe he should check up on them in a bit… It couldn't hurt.

In the meantime, though, Lucas shook his musings off and relaxed back to watch one of his favorite shows with his best friend, trying to pretend something wasn't boiling within.

Seth, beside him, drew a breath and did the same.

* * *

><p>"Yes." Jesse's voice was confident, firm, and Carson seem to relax minutely before tensing right back up, cracking his knuckles in the silence that followed Jesse's response.<p>

"Are you sure?" Carson's voice was rough, harder than he intended, not that he minded much since it only served to enhance the importance of his question.

Jesse gave him an ultra-serious look.

"Let me think about it…" He took a moment then laughed and shook his head at Carson, who scowled, though one of the corners of his bottom lip remained obstinately quirked up.

"I don't chase things I don't care about," Jesse informed him finally with a shrug. "So, as far as I'm concerned, yeah. There's something to break."

Carson nodded distantly then spoke up, slowly but surely: "I agree…"

Jesse grinned triumphantly.

"It's the book smell isn't it?"

And Carson snorted and gave him his own grin and moved closer to him.

"Yeah. Turns me on."

Jesse smirked.

"I knew it would. So, we're dating now, right? That wasn't all some fancy way to break up with me or anything, right? Because I know you're evil as hell, but…"

Carson's grin faded slightly, but he nodded.

"We're dating," he interrupted, then, pausing a beat, repeated himself like an echo, the word stumbling a little awkwardly over his tongue, brow gaining a small furrow that he wiped away once realized.

Jesse tilted his head cockily, and sang the word boyfriend under his breath and Carson shook his head but smirked anyway, repeating dating in his head a few more times, trying to get used to the sound of it. He wasn't even going to try 'boyfriend', yet. He knew he wanted this now, but that didn't make it feel any less weird, or any less completely ridiculous.

"Exclusive," he spoke up though after a minute. "I know I'm new to all this, but I don't feel like doing the whole non-exclusive to exclusive thing. It just seems like a waste of time. And I don't like to do that."

Jesse almost faltered, but didn't, and without skipping a beat gave his agreement.

He definitely didn't plan to have any more incidents like the other night's, waking up like that. He wasn't sure how much he'd done with the cat-girl, but he did know that it hadn't really helped him much in the first place. And now that he and Carson were actually together, he definitely didn't want Carson finding someone else, and he didn't have much interest in doing so himself, so it wouldn't be a problem.

"Well, then, now that that's resolved…" Carson murmured. "I have your assignment."

"How about later?" Jesse asked, tilting his head. "I wanted you to give me your opinion on which song I should go with for my audition. I sound amazing with all of them, of course, but-"

"Isn't school work more important?" Carson interrupted him doubtfully, to which Jesse frowned.

"This audition is more important. We're dating now, you know, and a boyfriend has certain obligations…"

"Oh jeez," Carson laughed. "Alright, I'll do it."

Jesse beamed, springing up from the bed.

"Perfect! Get comfortable and prepare to be both massively blown away and massively turned on!"

"Vocabulary," Carson mused, and Jesse licked his lips, cocking his head.

"You know, I might start using even bigger words if I get some kind of reward."

"Enticement," Carson said slowly, smirking as he moved up and forward abruptly, reaching out and pulling Jesse in toward him. "Hmmm…Might be worth a shot."

The last part was breathed over Jesse's lips, which fell ajar. They drew in a breath together, and the connection closed the distance, their lips touching, barely, but still. They lingered a moment like that, just feeling the start of this, whatever this might be, memorizing every detail, every bit of texture and life and past and them between their lips, hung a moment in this space of just them- just each other and the beginning of a kiss. And then, the moment fell and they were left with just the urgency behind it, mouths embracing tautly, hotly, tongues moving in and out and over, leaving wet trails as they each explored the taste of the other.

Too soon, they pulled back, but at the same time just soon enough- an edge lingered to the air, an electric charge, a pulse, a beat, a life all its own- and just sort of stared at each other, mesmerized by the instant and by how much was in just the look of the other's eyes.

Carson cleared his throat and looked away, smirking a little.

"It might just be a good system," he pondered aloud, then tapped Jesse on the knee. "Come, you. You're performing for me, aren't you? And then we come back here and I will teach you why you don't just throw any symbol you think looks good into an essay, and you will at the very least stop using asterisks in the place of periods."

"A man with a plan," Jesse hummed, eyes alight, then he raised a brow: "And what are asterisks?"

"The symbol that could pass for a star," Carson retorted drolly, and Jesse beamed.

"Well, there you go. I'm adding a personal touch of my star-power, babe."

Carson's forehead wrinkled.

"Jesse, now that we're…involved…I'm going to make a note on facebook and tag you in it, and I want you to read it very carefully, understand?"

Jesse rolled his eyes.

"As you wish, buttercup."

"…Really read it carefully. In fact, here's a preview: My name's Carson. You can call me Carson."

Jesse smirked.

"I'd prefer to save that for when I'm screaming it in bed, but okay. Carson," his name was emphasized with a side of breathy moaning, and Carson's brow furrowed.

"This is going to be harder than I thought, isn't it?"

At Jesse's huge grin, he groaned.

"That wasn't an innuendo, St. James! Just- you wanted to show me your possible auditions, didn't you?"

"Oh, I'll perform for you," Jesse drawled, crawling suggestively from the bed and throwing Carson a wink.

Carson simply shook his head.

Well, at least with Jesse he would never be bored.

* * *

><p>The stage was occupied.<p>

Livin' La Vida Loca was being blasted from the auditorium's sound system and there were six, actually six, shirtless guys on stage, five surrounding and fawning over the one in the center, who was at least a few inches shorter than each of his admirers and thrusting his hips in a studied circular motion.

Midgets…

Jesse scowled as beside him Carson arched an eyebrow in bemusement and shot Jesse a look.

"Are they your backup, drama king?"

"Disloyal subjects…" Jesse retorted instantly, sizing up his boyfriend (fuck yeah) and gaining something of a smile, though one that faded back the second his eyes returned to the boys.

"They clearly don't know what they're doing."

"Clearly," Carson agreed, smirking, irony at the edges of his tone and look.

"…I should show them the right way."

"Clearl- wait no. That's not really a good- Jesse. Well…this should be fun at least…"

He rolled his eyes and fell back into an auditorium seat with a yawn, watching as Jesse jumped up onto the stage and joined the boys, all of whom were steadfastly ignoring him outside of two or three bewildered glances and continuing with their choreography, only one of them falling ever so slightly out of step with the others before he quickly regained himself and caught back up with the others' motions.

Jesse mimicked them and fell into step as well, smirking arrogantly as he moved through the undulating pelvises, quick stepping, and studied gesticulating about him toward the short man stalking confidently between his suitors front and center. The man made a few quick motions, spinning between the men around him, letting his legs lift and sweep with strong grace. Jesse copied the moves and tossed them back, the man frowning at him but continuing as the song's beat picked up, engaging each of those around him in different stages of what looked like a tango, though Carson really didn't know enough about dance, despite what Amy said, to be sure. When he faced Jesse, he arched a brow, and they came together to complete it, the other men barely batting an eye at the unanticipated change to their choreo and picking their pace right back up as the song reached conclusion and the man and Jesse separated and backed apart from one another, eyes matched in hard stares as they sized one another up then turned as one toward the audience and fell to completion with the song's last chords.

The lighting of the auditorium became more natural and the man turned to face Jesse, frowning, then slowly extended a hand.

Jesse ignored it.

"Who are you?"

The shorter man's voice was slightly lower than Jesse's when he answered, but clear and strong even at normal tone, each syllable enunciated and projected so that no beat could be missed by any of the audience, and bore the smallest hint of an accent.

"Chad Sullivan. Though I'm sure you knew that already, since there's no way someone who can pull what you just did off the cuff doesn't keep up with Broadway. And your name?"

"You haven't heard of me already, then?" Jesse asked, eyes fixed blandly on the unlit stage spotlights. "You really are new, aren't you? I'm Jesse St. James. What was your name again? I forgot. Charles maybe?"

"Chad," Chad answered slowly and with a hint of a smile. He glanced out into the audience. "Who's your friend?"

Jesse's brow knit minutely before quickly smoothing back out.

"You mean Carson? He's my boyfriend."

"He's pretty hot. Can he sing and dance, too?"

"Yes he is," Jesse's voice was smug. Then: "…and I doubt he's anywhere near my level, but he might be able to match you."

Chad, instead of rebuking the sentiment, just grinned.

"Hey! Carson, is it?"

Carson didn't bother glancing up from a book that he'd somehow managed to sneak out of the room with them.

"Yes," he called out blankly. "It is Carson. And he's lying. I can't sing or dance worth crap, and I have no interest in improving my skill in either."

Chad laughed, and Jesse turned a scowl on him.

"He's funny, too," Chad told Jesse, who squinted back at him, asking abruptly:

"Exactly how tall are you?"

"5'3'' and a half," Chad recited, eyes wide and amused. "You gonna ask my weight next?"

"Maybe."

"Well, I'll just let you know now then that I'm one-hundred-and-twenty-six pounds. My vision is slightly under twenty-twenty and someday I'll probably need glasses, but that day isn't today. I have about eight or nine percent body fat, and am twenty years old. I was born December fifth. My sex is also male, and my orientation is toward other guys."

Jesse cocked his head, surveying the other.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Would you like to check?"

"I'm not sure I'd see anything even if you are a guy. I left my magnifying glass back in the dorm."

"Fair enough, though there's a reason they say that big things come in small packages."

"Only if you're Mary Poppins," Jesse scoffed, and Chad shrugged.

"Well, my mom is, and with my genetics I think my chances of having the trait are pretty high."

"Oh, who are you, Isaac Newton?" Jesse asked irritably and Carson flicked a page in his book as he interrupted their banter with:

"Jesse, while I'm glad that's a name you at least know, the person you meant to refer to is actually named Gregor Mendel."

"Your boyfriend's smart," Chad's voice was interested, and Jesse's instantly re-hardened from the smile that had been threatening to break out at Carson's interjection.

"Oh, he's brilliant. So, 5'3''? Wouldn't that qualify you for dwarfism? It's a shame you weren't available for casting when they did the original Willy Wonka; I'm sure you'd have made an excellent oompa loompa."

"I do look good in orange and green," Chad allowed. "Though the maximum height to qualify as having dwarfism is 4'10'' I'm pretty sure."

"He's right."

"Carson, not the time!"

"It was a fact, Jesse," Carson retorted, still reading. "Weren't you going to do your audition stuff?"

"Oh, what are you auditioning for?"

Jesse turned back to Chad with a smug look.

"Spring Awakening. Melchior, of course."

"Of course," Chad agreed. "And, of course, as am I. My friend Pat wouldn't let me not."

"That's a double negative," Carson announced from the audience and they both turned to face him.

"Yes it is," Jesse agreed loudly and triumphantly, casting Chad a condescending look and half-smirk.

Carson frowned, looking up from his book, then shrugged and went back to reading, the smallest of smiles toying at the corners of his lips.

Chad just nodded.

"You're right. So, you were going to go over potential audition material?"

"Yes," Jesse retorted, cocking his head and simpering. "If you don't mind…"

"Can I watch?"

"While I am always up for an audience, I don't know that the public would take kindly to me crushing the dreams of those less fortunate."

"I'll tell the public I asked for it," Chad suggested, and Jesse almost glared at him but smiled brightly instead.

"As long as they know. I'll need the stage to myself though."

Chad shrugged and promptly hopped off, glancing up at Jesse once more before moving toward where Carson was sitting.

Jesse's eyes narrowed, but he allowed his focus to remain with his performance. Carson could take care of himself, and if midget tried anything the reaming Carson would give him would be fantastic either way.

He was never lacking in wow-factor, of course, and would kill whatever song he did now like a lion facing a prostrate sheep. But falling into his old wheelhouse of classics seemed like the best move strategically. People who had the nerve to tackle the greats already had an edge up on competition because of their confidence level, and if they were as good as Jesse then there was an opportunity for them to become the classic, and anytime the original was listened to from then on the cover artist would be thought of. You could do that with anything, of course, but bigger ticket items, like Bohemian Rhapsody (which he'd really made his complete bitch at Regionals- he'd actually had _Brian May_ contact him after being sent the youtube link!), were automatically going to give you that leg up.

Jesse didn't actually need any legs up on midget, but Carson was there too, and he was considerably taller… not to mention that whether he needed to or not (which he didn't; his talent was the obvious kind that no-one in a twenty mile radius could miss), Jesse would never miss a chance to show off.

He was a motherfucking star.

Jesse pulled a disk from his back pocket and looked at it a moment, then tossed it out toward Chad, calling: "Mind running this up to the sound room? Tell the AV-person to turn it to three and hit play when I give the signal."

He turned away from Chad, smirking when he heard footsteps.

The midget was apparently a doormat, in addition to the whole short thing.

If he hadn't already been confident he had his role in the bag, he would have been now.

"You guys want to back up a real star?" he called to the dancers grouped along the wings, talking and draining bottles of stars.

They glanced among each other, a few shrugs between them before three of the more tenacious stepped out to join Jesse on the stage.

He spoke to the three quickly and quietly, spending less than a minute, before separating himself and throwing a grin at the space spread before him.

A jerk of his head and a second later the music kicked up, as did Carson's gaze from his book.

"Oh my God… He's not. No."

Chad, beside Carson, slid down into his seat with a grin.

"He is…"

"Sometimes I feel I've got to…"

Jesse paused to look up subtly, neck lowered, and glance into the audience with heavy eyes. Then he continued, the words a throaty purr, pelvis thrusting into a slow circular motion: "Run away, I've got to…"

Each metallic thump of the music was punctuated by a sharp movement, a leaning, a spin, a thrust, a fall.

"Once I ran to you… Now I'll run from you. This tainted love you've given- I gave you all a boy could give you! Take my tears and that's not nearly _all_."

Carson really wished he could say it wasn't having exactly its intended effect, but…

He shifted the book in his lap with what mind he had left that wasn't entranced by his, by Jesse, on the stage and moving like he owned the world. He wished he had it in him to believe otherwise.

Unfortunately, Jesse really was a born fucking performer.

Still, he was sane enough to be petulant about it, which he took as good, and maybe bad too.

"To make things right, you need someone to hold you tight…"

How the hell did Jesse do this?

He was insane-

Insane.

Jesse dropped low and bent himself in some ungodly way, words vibrating as he howled: "Don't touch me please! I cannot stand the way you _tease_."

Carson's eyes tracked over Jesse as he continued, practically writhing between the three back up dancers that had chosen to join him.

"Tainted Love." Gyrated. Fucking. "Tainted Love." Gyrated.

Fuck him so fucking-

"Touch me baby, tainted love."

Hard.

Jesse's voice settled lower and lower, but still managed to reverberate through the auditorium, and Carson felt himself swallow for what had to be the tenth time in two minutes. Less. Holy fuck. This song would be just over two minutes probably and wasn't even over, and—

"Touch me baby… Tainted Love…"

Slowly, Jesse's hands were guiding those of the dancers.

Carson swallowed again.

Two. Motherfucking.

Again.

Together they pulled Jesse's already clinging shirt from his frame as he crooned a last, powerful "Tainted Love", the notes aching and tension filled, trailing into a moan.

He fell back, shirtless, against the three dancers, all breathlessly smirking.

Carson glowered and tried for a noncommittal grunt, pressing a little harder down on the book as if it would help.

"You are good," Chad told Jesse, voice utterly jolly. Turned on or not, an eyeroll from Carson was automatic. "But I have to admit, your boyfriend's hard-on was a lot more interesting for me than the performance… and I'm not sure if that's really what you want in an audience member."

"It's so cute you think that and shows how little sexual experience you must have that you don't realize that an erection is only a bad thing if it's lasted eight hours or is a little over two inches." Jesse retorted smugly from the stage. "There are pills to help with that last, just so you know. It's okay. Not everyone can be huge, clearly."

"Actually," Carson volunteered. "I believe there was a study that said one in three males is extremely under-endowed."

"That's so funny, because there are three of us here. And I know for a fact that two of us more than measure up in every way."

"You really do have a size fixation, don't you?" Chad mused. "It's clearly not from lack on Carson here's part, so that does make me wonder…"

"Let's not kid ourselves, you were already wondering," Jesse snorted. "Everyone wonders."

"I didn't," Carson objected.

"That's because you had your hand down my pants less than ten minutes after we met, Casper."

"You _stole my tape deck_."

"Clearly I'm in the midst of true love..."

"Clearly," Jesse and Carson both snapped in unison.

Apparently neither had really heard him.

"We aren't arguing over this again and there was nothing sexual in what I did. It was business."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Chad attempted to joke.

"Don't you have to go suck Willy Wonka's cock, short stuff? You don't even have to be on your knees to be the right height. Might want to get on that."

Chad shot Carson a glance.

"I'll leave you two to your anger sex. See you around maybe?"

"Unfortunately it's a small world."

"Disney reference?" Jesse asked, jumping down from the stage.

Carson snorted.

"No. I'd never intentionally-"

"Don't speak-"

"Jesse, you just finished singing. Bursting into more eighties covers isn't healthy. You're supposed to wait three hours."

"Like with swimming in the ocean?"

"Absolutely."

"Good thing I don't like rules," Jesse grinned. "And that reminds me! We need to start our Disney marathon."

Carson groaned.

Chad pursed his lips in thought as he quietly left, retracing his steps back toward the green room and the stage.

If this guy was his competition, eavesdropping was only right, after all. Chad was no idiot.

"Jesse, didn't you want to show me more than the one?"

"Do you think you can handle watching more than one?" Jesse winked.

Carson rolled his eyes.

"For your information, spontaneous erections are typical of the pubescent male."

"Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"Don't make me bring out the big guns, Jesse."

"I'm sorry, but it looks like your big gun is already out."

Carson smirked.

"That's what you'd think, but…"

"What? Are you gonna shoot me with it? Because I've gotta say, Carson-"

"Jesse, now would be a good point to shut the hell up."

"Yes sir."

Carson laughed at that and Jesse looked up smugly a moment before joining him.

"Do you want to go get some coffee?"

"That better be a rhetorical question," Carson parroted indignantly toward Jesse, then, eyes glinting, took his hand. "It's on me though, since I'm clearly the man."

"You're questioning my manhood?"

"I'm asserting my own."

"Fuck you."

Carson snorted.

"I wasn't being serious, Jesse. Don't worry. You can share the figurative pants with me."

Jesse tightened their hands and waggled his eyebrows.

"Or we could just take them off altogether…"

"Coffee first, then we'll talk."

Chad, unobtrusively in the wings of the stage, knit his brow together.

The first rule of real show business might well be don't talk about _real_ show business, but the second rule wasn't also don't talk about real show business; it was more a tie between 'know your competition' and 'fucking rehearse, rinse, repeat'. All up there with: 'There _are_ small parts, no matter what Shakespeare said, and if you don't want to be stuck with them you better as hell be following rules one through three. Dumbass.'

He would know.

Because of that, he had to see this all as a chess board. And the outcome was life or death. Play it smart. Nothing off focus. Get the part, and be sure you will throughout.

Never falter.

He had his ten commandments and he lived by them.

This kid was talented, but he didn't stand a chance, and Chad just hoped that the fall out wasn't too bad. He wasn't a mean guy. But he also wasn't a dumb one, and strategically he had to do what he had to do.

Jesse's ego could clearly afford to cushion the fall, and if that failed, collateral damage.

A few pawns always got killed on the way to winning didn't they?

* * *

><p>In the tech booth at the top of the auditorium, Lucas nodded once, eyes on the small ripple of curtain and disturbance of shadow in the wings of the stage.<p>

He'd wanted to check on Jesse and the Kid during a bathroom break, and had come here expecting drama when he'd realized they weren't in his and Jesse's dorm and this was best second bet. He hadn't expected quite that though...

Against his better judgement, his eyes hadn't budged from where he knew Chad Sullivan stood, his thoughts racing a mile a minute.

Jesse was his roommate, and his girlfriend's friend, as well as his own.

But Seth was his best friend.

Crap.

He shot Seth a text saying he'd be right there and just had to check on something for tech he'd been designing and forgot about.

Then moved down through the auditorium and toward the shadows of the stage.

True love bullshit could kiss his ass. It was just lust anyway, and it was ruining everything.

Seth was his best friend, and for Lucas that pretty much beat everything, himself included, and he'd do what it took to get back to where they all needed to be.

* * *

><p><em>AN- _

_Ashley here. Sandra and I wanted to be witty but we're both half-dead and words are mostly gone for me since I wrote like the last six pages of this in the past few hours. Ick._

_Clever isn't a friend tonight so I'll just give you some dialogue:_

**_SANDRA: You are all beautiful sunflowers with the patience of an immortal for waiting [as you have] for this. I DON'T KNOW. I'VE CRACKED._**

**_ASHLEY: *crying* WORDS CAN'T NOT DOUBLE NEGATIVE SEXUAL TENSION TOO MUCH I CAN'T SANDRA HELP_**

**_SANDRA_****_(what she should have said)_****_: I'M TOO BUSY WANTING SLEEP TO MUDDLE THROUGH YOUR CREYS, RIDICULASH _**

**_ASHLEY: YOU ARE ZEUS AND OPRAH AND NO _**

**_SANDRA: I'M TOO AWESOME FOR MY SHIRT, TOO AWESOME FOR MY SHIRT, TOO AWESOME FOR MY SHIRT_**

**_ASHLEY: REMEMBER WHEN ROD OF FLESH OH WAIT OUR READERS DON'T OH WELL_**

**_SANDRA: TROLL IN THE FANFICTION!_**

**_please review so we can sleep. Please._**

_(Special shout outs to Mary and Kim and oh yeah every goddamn one of you because you're all unfairly awesome. WE LOVE YOU GUYS!)_


	10. Chapter 10 Two Weeks to Forever

**In An Instant  
><strong>

Chapter 10: Two Weeks to Forever

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

**WORD COUNT: 6,784**

* * *

><p>Two weeks, seven make-out sessions (really more like six-and-a-half, but Carson had told him something about being able to round up if a decimal was five or more right before makeout-session three, so he figured he could call it seven), ten study sessions, and thirteen impromptu performances that Carson mostly "ignored" later, Jesse St. James had a revelation.<p>

An epiphany.

A… Was he out of synonyms already?

Whatever, those two were worthy of vocabulary bonuses from Carson probably anyway.

The point was, eying the Spring Awakening audition sheet now, Jesse was struck with the realization that he may have gotten himself into some trouble.

Apparently you needed to have at least a B-average in every course you were taking to even get an audition.

He always forgot that they seemed to expect him to actually do all of his work himself, and now that he was actually with the guy who was helping him with all of it, he was even more distracted than he'd been before when Carson was just a fun chase between getting essays written for him.

This sucked.

Maybe he could woo the dean into changing the rules… And Carson would definitely help him too, of course, so there was that. It wouldn't be a problem, just a hassle. But whatever- he was Jesse St. James and he'd get what he wanted someway somehow. He always did, didn't he?

He signed his name on the audition sign-up sheet with flourish, then scanned his work as well as the names above his (he'd made sure to be fashionably late, of course). None of them had a chance in hell against him. His eyes narrowed as they fell then on the name two above his.

Well look who it was.

The midget bitch of Broadway.

Jesse scowled at the list, then turned on his heel and headed back toward his dorm. He was meeting Carson for coffee before his boyfriend's shift started, and then it would be off to the park to rehearse and stage a few numbers.

He totally had this.

But it wouldn't hurt to get a _little_ more help than he had been with his homework probably… Jesse stuck a few more of his assignments into his shoulder bag and headed out.

* * *

><p>"So, that's your boyfriend, huh? You're gay now?"<p>

Carson rolled his eyes away from Claire, mouth twisting.

"No I'm not, it's none of your business, and go away."

Silence answered him, and he drew a breath as he stocked another book onto the shelf, scanning the row again to be sure it was all organized.

"He doesn't strike me as your type, and I don't just mean because I have to use that specific pronoun."

Carson groaned, setting the book he was holding back and turning to look at her.

"I thought you'd actually decided to leave me alone for once. Clearly I was being too idealistic… And I wasn't aware I had a type."

Claire rolled her eyes at him.

"Everyone has a type."

"I'm not everyone, Claire. Now, will you screw off already?"

"You're such an asshole," Claire bit out, eyes narrowing at him. "I'm just being nice. No-one else here wants to talk to you anymore, since you're a magnet for complaints and all."

He glowered at her.

"Get out of my face, and go die in a hole or something, why don't you? I know it was you who helped out with wrecking this place on Halloween. I do not want to talk to you Claire. I don't want to look at you. I have to see you at school, as well as work with you, the least you can do is leave me alone whenever contact isn't absolutely necessary."

"Alone?" Claire's mouth was set in a sneer, her eyes bitter and dark. "You're already alone, Carson. All alone, boyfriend or not, and that's all you'll ever be, because you're just a stubborn jerk that no-one likes or ever will. I guess the boyfriend thing figures, since you've always had a stick up your ass anyway. But even then, you're always still going to be alone, because in your head you're just an island in the world, and you're better than everyone."

"And the beauty of it is that I don't give a shit at all, but you for whatever reason do. You care so much what people think, that you barely exist anymore, and it's really pathetic. So, for the last time Claire, _fuck off_."

"Carson Phillips. Can I speak to you?"

Fuck.

Ellen.

"Of course, Ellen." Carson stood and pushed past Claire, rolling his eyes at her expression.

Ellen led the way to her office, and Carson followed quietly, hands jammed deep in his pockets, lips twisted down hard.

The second the door was closed, his mouth was open.

"Ellen, look, I know Claire and I are arguing a lot lately, but-"

"Chill out, Carson."

Carson stopped short, brow coming together.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're not in trouble," her voice tried to be gentle despite being caught in a laugh.

"I'm not."

"No. Not at all. Well, not really, anyway," Ellen replied. "Carson, I had to review the security footage of Halloween night, and it struck me as interesting how late you stayed. Not to mention the smashed pumpkin you were cleaning up. Care to explain those things? I didn't happen to see an incident report, and all you told me was that there were some mild pranks, nothing you didn't expect and couldn't handle."

"And there wasn't," Carson replied firmly after a moment. "I knew going in that Halloween attracted pranks. As did you. And I've dealt with worse than anything that happened, and I took care of it. It wasn't worth mentioning."

"Yes, well, as your supervisor, I have to respectfully disagree. Look, Carson. I get it, okay? You're ambitious and a hard worker. You're going somewhere in life, but you're different, and that always sucks, no matter how driven you are. Bottom line is that, though you should have told me what happened, the work ethic, commitment, and initiative you showed in taking care of everything to the point where it took me watching the security footage to realize something was up… I'm impressed. And so were my bosses. And so your job is very safe, and I've been told to give you compensation for the time you spent working without pay. All of it."

Carson just stared at her.

"If you're waiting for the shoe to drop, I promise there's not one."

At that he raised an incredulous brow and she sighed, sitting back.

"Alright, well, I do need you and Claire to argue less. It's becoming a cause for concern, and I don't really want to fire either of you. But your compensation isn't contingent on that, so it's really not a shoe."

Carson smirked.

"I won't complain about being paid more, then. And I can't promise anything about Claire, but I will say that if we taped her mouth shut I think everyone would probably be a lot more comfortable."

Ellen sat back in her chair and gave him an unimpressed look.

"And I bet everyone would be even more comfortable if we could get the bickering to stop without doing anything that might result in an investigation by the police, or a certain manager who's been helping you out considerably getting fired."

Carson huffed something like a laugh.

"The police would never find out if it was me."

Ellen rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I'm aware that I have an evil genius employed. Which is why from now on I'll probably be hiding the tape from you. And the boxcutters now that I think about it. Get going, Phillips. There's books out there waiting to be stocked and you're the only man they want to do it."

Carson nodded, standing and extending a hand to her that she shook with a look of amusement.

"And Carson, maybe spend the money on getting your friend some lessons in grace. Fun as it was to see him fall on his ass, he almost managed to take down a bookshelf with him, and I always hate to see accident reports. And since he's been coming in to visit with you pretty regularly now I'm thinking it's something I need to worry about."

"I'll control my Jesse if you can control your Claire," Carson offered, a corner of a lip twitching.

Ellen just shook her head at him.

It was thirty minutes before Claire finally managed, as he'd anticipated, to find and isolate him as business tapered down into a lull once more and the group of customers she'd been helping traipsed out, and the one he'd been commandeered by waved him off. Perfect, awful timing.

"Did Ellen spank you?"

"Why? Jealous?"

Claire scoffed, rolling her eyes at him, and scuffed a foot backward against one of the shelves before crossing her ankles and arms.

"Were there more complaints?"

"I'm sure there were, probably thanks to you, but that wasn't the point of the meeting," Carson retorted noncommittally. "Are you done obsessing over things that are none of your goddamn business?"

"Look, I didn't come up with it, alright? The complaints I didn't know anything about until you told me, and Halloween wasn't my idea."

"I don't give a shit," Carson said flatly.

"Yes you do," Claire snapped back. "Of course you do."

"No Claire. You forget that I don't care about much of anything. At least nowhere near as much as you."

"You only care about yourself and your stupid newspaper and your education, right?" she asked rhetorically, voice bitter.

"Technically, your last two fit under the umbrella of your first," Carson replied. "And yes. It's better that way."

"What about your boyfriend?" She sneered. "Not him either, huh?"

"I believe I asked you to go away, Claire," Carson bit out. "And also said that wasn't your business. I know you say things you don't mean all the time, but some of us don't need to put on a chameleon act in order to accomplish anything."

Claire huffed out a breath.

"As if. I've done everything I wanted to do."

"On everyone else's terms."

"Compromise is necessary in the real world," she said snidely, and Carson snorted derisively at her, head shaking.

"There are different kinds of compromise. How many brain cells have you lost along with your personality, Claire?"

"I fucking hate you, Carson," Claire said abruptly after a moment, voice falling low.

"A sentiment I return," Carson told the books severely. "Which is why for the tenth time today I'm asking you to go the fuck away. We're at work. Do your job, Claire. Annoying me isn't actually in your job description, so how about finally fucking off and doing what you get paid for? And I don't mean go find someone to blow, since I know you can get your two jobs confused, but you know what? I wouldn't give a shit if you do anyway, just as long as you're away from me. Goodbye."

Claire stared at him a second longer, then just turned sharply on her heel and headed toward the ladies' room.

Carson behind her kept his gaze fixed to the books he'd just stocked for a long moment, eyes hard and not really seeing. Then he shook the feeling off and got back to work.

Jesse was picking him up tomorrow morning and he needed to be even more productive than usual to make up for the lack thereof he was predicting for tomorrow.

And he really wanted to put some effort into finding out what exactly it was that Jesse was planning, too. He hated surprises, but Jesse never seemed to let that stop him.

He frowned and refocused his thoughts again toward the books, analyzing titles and summaries and letting the purely academic push the rest into a frivolous white noise.

* * *

><p>"Just wait, it's going to be amazing."<p>

"Jesse," Carson sighed, buckling his seatbelt and casting a look toward the steering wheel his date was handling one-handedly. "One, it's really weird to have you driving. And nerve-wracking."

"You're driving on the way back," Jesse reminded him pleasantly. Suspiciously pleasantly.

Carson frowned at the tone, but pressed on.

"Yes, but you wouldn't even take my car, and I hate yours," he grumbled back, and Jesse shot him an aghast expression, free hand going up to pat at the car's dashboard.

"He doesn't mean that, Vivian. He's just pissed that I managed to hide his notebook and red pens before we left."

Carson scoffed beside him, rolling his eyes toward the window.

"It can't hear you, Jesse. It's an inanimate object. And, you know I hate surprises. You should really just tell me where the hell we're going."

Jesse's free hand fell to pat at his boyfriend's thigh.

"You'll survive, Casper. It's gonna be okay. Now, apologize to Vivian please."

Carson eyed Jesse's hand as his head shook.

"Again, Jess, it's just a car. A man-made machine."

Jesse sighed dramatically.

"Ignore him, Vivian. He's just jealous of how much I touch your gear shift."

Carson snorted, but otherwise made no reply for a moment, letting a comfortable silence fill the air.

Jesse's hand was just about to move to turn on the radio when Carson broke the quiet with: "How much longer until we get there exactly?"

"Well, it's at least a forty-five minute drive, and we've been in the car for about five of those now."

Carson huffed out a breath.

"This is a colossal waste of time."

Jesse's hand smoothed over his leg and Carson returned his gaze to it bemusedly.

"What are you doing?"

"Do I need to give you a handjob to make you stop complaining?"

"You're driving."

Jesse smirked at the road ahead, hand automatically moving up Carson's leg toward his crotch.

"I'm talented."

"Not that talented."

"Wanna bet?"

Carson watched lackadaisically as the hand crept higher, not bothering to move.

"You're a moron."

Jesse's hand met its desired territory for a moment and was preparing to squeeze to get a reaction when Carson finally rolled his eyes and took the hand in his and away from his crotch.

"No handjobs."

"Fine," Jesse grinned easily. "In that case, I think it's time for the Jarson road-trip mix I made!"

Carson's brow furrowed.

"Jarson? Do I want to know?"

"It's our couple name!"

"You could have just said I didn't and left it at that."

"You know you like it."

"Just hit play already. Anything would be better than listening to you for the next half-hour."

Jesse smirked, and hit play, while Carson turned back to looking out the window, hiding a hint of a smile against the glass.

"What the- did the music not transfer over?" Jesse asked after a beat, frowning at his car. "Vivian, why aren't you playing-"

"Call me Ishmael…"

"I hope you don't mind," Carson told the window nonchalantly. "I replaced your CDs with my audio books collection while you were fixing your hair. I figured you wouldn't have a problem with it, since, you know, you're such a fan of the classics. Especially Moby Dick."

Jesse shot Carson a look from the corner of his eye.

"You're so sexy when you're evil."

"…Shut up and drive, Jess."

* * *

><p>Their second date-type-event had happened just a few days after the first, when an after-school-study-date became an "Alright, I'll endure a goddamn Disney movie if you just change this, this, and this, and then start researching for that other paper while I finish my math and science homework and edit a couple articles."<p>

Jesse had conceded and had worked with surprising vigor, and Carson was stuck staring with no small degree of dread and disgust at the DVD cover for Cinderella, because according to Jesse they had to start with classics first.

He couldn't believe he was actually doing this.

But then Jesse flashed him a humungous grin and bounded back to the bed and hit play and rolled his eyes and said that he'd allow Carson to have his notebook and make an article or whatever out of it if he really had to, just as long as he paid attention.

And so maybe the whole boyfriend thing wasn't _so_ bad.

And though his thought that Disney was pure, complete crap was only reinforced over the next _seventy-six_ minutes of nauseating, clichéd, ridiculous animation, he found that it wasn't quite as horrific a way to pass just over an hour as he'd expected.

He had an idea for a new special he could run in the paper, too.

"A Cynic and a Disney Story", his mental working title, could be an interesting twist on a movie-reviewing series that he actually thought might register some interest. So, his time wasn't being wasted after all.

Or at least that was what he told himself when, head shaking, he agreed to watch other Disney "classics" with Jesse again when there was time after any given study session, as long as Jesse worked as hard beforehand as he had tonight.

It might also have kind of been fun to see Jesse get as ridiculously into something as he had been with the movie. Carson had only ever seen Jesse approach performing with that kind of rapture and serious appreciation, so while he might not feel anything near the same toward that or this newest thing, it was still kind of nice to see that same feeling again.

And besides, Jesse smiled a lot, but the expression was rarely as genuine and soft as it had been watching Cinderella try on a glass slipper that could only fit her.

Yeah, it had been stupid, beyond stupid in fact, but he found that the idea of watching another with Jesse didn't sound as bad as he'd expected.

Of course, that was mostly only because of the paper. Jesse was only a small part of it.

Carson crossed another word out in red and flexed his fingers against Jesse's absentmindedly as he contemplated the revision, not noticing at all as Jesse looked toward their hands and smiled just a bit, the expression both genuine and soft.

* * *

><p>"So, let me get this straight- you're actually watching Disney movies with him?"<p>

"Yes," Carson replied shortly, making his character on the screen throw another missile at Drew, who's own character managed to duck and roll away just in time to avoid the majority of the damage, but still lost about twenty life points.

Andrew frowned.

"You hate Disney."

"That's irrelevant, Drew," Carson scoffed him off, throwing another missile onscreen, then launching a quick sword attack, followed by an exploding arrow.

Andrew mock-glared at him.

"Since when?"

"Always," Carson retorted, eyes rolling. "It has always been irrelevant, Andrew. I'm using it for the paper, anyway, and it's getting Jesse to actually get work done. I've redirected an atrocity into something productive. So, therefore, my hatred is essentially irrelevant."

Andrew scowled (again) and hit the pause button on his controller (again), then turned fully toward Carson and stretched his legs out completely over the couch and, consequently, Carson's lap.

Carson eyed the legs with puzzled derision, then cast his cousin a dubious look, brow raised.

"Should I ask when I started to resemble a footstool, Drew?"

"To be honest, you kind of always have."

"Huh."

Andrew smirked at him and Carson snorted, shoving at the legs.

"Get off."

"Still, I'm just saying, I don't get it. Why are you putting yourself through that kind of pain?"

"It's really not as dramatic as you're trying to make it," Carson rolled his eyes. "And I'd pay attention to the screen if I were you. You'll want to be watching your spectacular defeat."

"You wish," Andrew shot back, fingers working quickly over the controller just moments too late.

On the screen his character exploded.

Carson smirked and threw the controller over to him.

"You were saying?"

Andrew rolled his eyes.

"It doesn't really count. I was distracted."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. And you know you're just jealous I got out of watching them with Amy and Sarah and you didn't."

"You only got out of it because no-one wanted to hear all about how unrealistic the dialogue was or how it failed to properly reflect the actual culture of the time, or the usage of clichéd tropes and the negative stereotypes they perpetuate, blah blah blah, etc. etc. etc."

"Exactly," Carson shrugged. "And I say all of that with Jess, but he actually seems to like hearing it and getting to argue back."

Andrew sighed, hitting the power button to the tv and turning fully to face Carson.

"Jess?"

Carson scowled at him.

"What point are you trying to make, Andrew?"

Andrew drew a deep breath.

"Is this guy actually your boyfriend?"

Carson's face was blank.

"You know, that really is just a godawful word."

"Does dating work better?" Andrew asked plainly back.

Carson hesitated, then rolled his eyes.

"Not really, but I suppose it would technically be considered applicable. But it's not any of your business, is it?"

"Yes," Andrew said immediately back. "You're like my little brother. We're family. You know that."

Carson crossed his arms and slouched back.

"I do. But I also know that I can handle myself. I have for a long time now. There's plenty you don't know, Drew. And you don't need to."

"I don't need to, but I want to."

Carson made a sound in his throat, then dragged himself up.

"It's getting late and I have homework, so I should really be going."

Andrew's face twisted, but he nodded anyway.

"Yeah, okay. But I'm calling you in the next couple days, okay? And I want to get to see you again soon."

"Fine," Carson acquiesced shortly. "I'll talk to you soon then."

"Yeah. Please do actually answer your phone this time."

"I'll try."

There was an awkward moment, then Andrew pulled him in for a quick hug that Carson slowly and fleetingly returned, and Carson was gone.

Andrew sighed, closing the door behind his cousin, then made his way over to the computer and logged into facebook.

Jesse was on.

And had commented on that post again.

Great, perfect timing.

Teeth gritted, he instead went to his girlfriend's page and was in the midst of writing something sweet, cheesey, and romantic for her to wake up to when…

Ping!

**Jesse St. James **_November 27th, 10:34 pm_

Does the idea of a bromance scare you Andrew?

Does it...threaten you?

**Andrew Phillips** _November 27th, 10:37 pm_

The only thing that threatens me is your obvious lack of mental stability.

Also, I respect Carson being with you or whatever, but I don't like you. So don't push me asshole.

**Jesse St. James** _November 27th, 10:39 pm_

Why thank u. That would be my star power you,re recognizing.

Oh, hey, no pushing, not even sexual. I'm taken, as you know.

Very, Very taken... ;)

**Andrew Phillips** _November 27th, 10: 40 pm_

Seriously, stop.

Your'e really starting to piss me off St. James

And you do not want to see me pissed off

**Jesse St. James** _November 27th, 10:40 pm_

Why will it make you rip your shirt off like the hulk?

Cause you,re right, I don't want to see that

I do want to see Carson do that but

Oh wait I already have

;)

**Andrew Phillips** _November 27th, 10: 42 pm_

Fuck off and stop talking about my cousin like that

**Jesse St. James**_ November 27th, 10:46 pm_

Oh, srry, does dirty talk make you uncomfterble? I'm sure you, re not used to stuff being sexy

Maybe you should take notes from Carson on it

He's so good at getting down nd dirty. Mm. It's like porn in my head thinking about it.

**Andrew Phillips** _November 27th, 10: 51 pm_

Just know that you really don't deserve my cousin got it? And the second he realizes that I will make sure you don't have the chance to come near him again

I'm done talking to you now

**Jesse St. James** _November 27th, 10:52 pm_

Cool. You can try but just know you'll fail

Though im sure you're used to that too

**_Andrew Phillips_**_ is offline, but will receive your messages when they return _

**Jesse St. James** _November 27th, 10:53 pm_

I'm gonna go jerk off now anyway

Bet you can guess who ill be thinking about

;) ;) ;)

Kisses! Byeeeee

**_Jesse St. James_**_ is offline_

* * *

><p>"Do you know what today is?" Jesse asked as he finally parked the car, unfortunately in a nondescript parking lot off the frontage road.<p>

He was annoyingly committed to the whole surprise thing.

"Saturday November 28th," Carson retorted, using his most insufferable voice. "So?"

Jesse looked sideways at him.

"Tomorrow we'll have been dating for a month."

"Okay?" Carson frowned. "So?"

Jesse rolled his eyes.

"You really don't understand romantic statements, do you?"

Carson snorted.

"Here we go."

"Anniversaries are important," Jesse informed him in a superior tone.

Carson raised an eyebrow.

"An anniversary, by definition, marks the passing of a year, Jesse. Not a month."

"Whatever," Jesse sniffed back. "I assumed you'd forget. But, being the amazing boyfriend that I am, I found the perfect locale for today's date."

"…Please don't tell me we're going to a musical or something. It's hard enough having just you randomly singing about your feelings."

Jesse tossed his head.

"Please. You adore me for it."

"No comment."

"Which means you do, in star language," Jesse grinned. Carson shook his head, suppressing a start to a smile of his own. "But no, this is something I thought we'd both enjoy."

"Jesse, it's a parking lot," Carson said pointedly. "The only thing you'd enjoy doing in a rundown parking lot would be sex. Which isn't going to happen for a while yet, at least not until I'm eighteen."

Jesse waggled his eyebrows in response, then smirked.

"Well, it's not car-sex, though I'm open to that too. Actually, from here, I'm driving us like half-a mile further. I just wanted to make sure you knew what the day was first, so that you'd understand why I'm blowing your mind even more than usual."

Carson groaned.

"You couldn't have said this while driving?"

"No."

Carson rolled his eyes again, then abruptly landed a kiss on Jesse's cheek before promptly turning away to look again out the window.

"Then get back to driving, asshole. I want to judge the greatness of this big surprise for myself."

Jesse smiled.

"Fine. Just get ready."

* * *

><p>Carson frowned at the paper in front of him and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.<p>

He'd finally finished his own homework just over an hour ago and moved onto going over Jesse's assignments and doing as much as he could without actually doing the work itself. Unfortunately, the load was bigger than usual, which meant he was taking longer than he'd counted on. There was at least another hour of this to go, plus he wanted to do some last minute editing of his opening article for the Disney series he'd been working on since watching Cinderella with Jesse last…

When was it again?

He yawned and moved his cursor over the time on his computer so that the date popped up.

November 17th. Tuesday. Almost the 18th though. Just about thirty minutes away.

And their date/studying hybrid thing had been the past Saturday, he recalled abruptly, irritation flaring at himself. Who the hell had that much trouble remembering dates of things they'd done less than a week ago? That was fucking ridiculous. It was his grandma with the severe Alzheimer's disease, not him. Though if he kept this up he might as well just join her in the nursing home.

Carson shook off the thoughts and refocused himself on the theatre history essay in front of him.

He should probably go make some coffee…

His phone rang and he pulled it out, eyes narrowed with confusion.

Who was calling him at this hour?

If it was Jesse he'd- Amy? Amy was calling him.

Carson answered instantly.

"Amy? What's going on? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Amy's voice was muffled and it sounded like she'd been crying.

Carson frowned.

"Yeah, right. What's going on? You're usually asleep hours ago."

"Ty and I are just going through a rough patch I guess," Amy said quietly. "And I've been trying to sleep, but I couldn't, and I knew you'd be up. Sorry if I'm interrupting your work and stuff."

"Amy, you know I don't mind when it's you. And, no offense, but when are you and Tyson not going through a rough patch?"

"I guess that's true, but it still sucks."

"What did the asshole do now anyway?"

"He forgot our date," she informed him, annoyance at the fringes of her voice. "And that it was our tenth-month mark since we first got seriously together."

"He stood you up? Andrew will kill him. And then I'll publish articles denouncing him posthumously as a monkey-fucking pervert or something."

"No, he rescheduled," she corrected him, ignoring the jabs at her boyfriend. "But I wanted to celebrate how much time has passed."

Carson was silent for a moment, then sighed.

"I thought that was only something that was really important in movies and awful romance novels unless it was a year mark or you're a superficial, sex-obsessed high-schooler.

"Carson, that's really not the nicest thing you could say."

"It's not the meanest," he reminded her, then groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead, then cracking his knuckles. "It wasn't meant as an attack on you, Ames. I just really didn't think that meant anything to any one real and with any degree of a life. And you have both, in addition to being smart. So, I don't know what to say."

"You haven't missed one with Jesse, have you?" Amy asked, a frown in her voice. "Because I love you and I really don't want you to be one of those guys."

"No," Carson said immediately. "Jesse's too dramatic to keep silent about anything cheesy and romantic that I miss. Which I'm getting the impression this tradition is."

"Do you remember your anniversary date?"

"…No."

Amy laughed through the phone.

"Carson that's so bad. Here, let me check facebook and see."

"It was before Halloween," he offered.

"Yeah, the day before according to facebook," she said, moments later. "And you are not forgetting, got it?"

"November thirtieth is a Monday, though."

"So? You do something the weekend before or that night."

Carson rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. …Are you feeling better now? You sound a little bit."

"You just gave me perspective," she replied after a beat. "Ty's only forgotten one, maybe two of our anniversaries. I've been working really hard lately, and it's got me all emotional about everything. People are being chosen for a recital based on their performances this past week through next, plus Ty's been distant. And it all just exploded together. But you make it sound so stupid, that even though I don't think it is, it also doesn't seem as important, if that makes sense. Plus, now I feel like I'm getting to play cupid with you and Jesse. I _love_ playing cupid."

Carson nodded, eyebrows drawn together.

"I'd suggest sleep, because it sounds like you're becoming manic now. And I kind of need to finish a few assignments."

"Okay," Amy sighed. "Plan something good for you and Jesse, okay? And email me ideas if you have time! I want to see what you decide on, plus I have the feeling I'll be reminding you again about this."

She didn't sound completely better, mostly like she was just starting to be able to move her thoughts away from it and was now pushing anything negative down and overcompensating with bubble.

Still, he did have work, and he figured it would be best to talk to her again tomorrow, and involve Andrew if he really felt like he had to. Meanwhile, this was just another thing to do.

Yay.

They said their goodbyes, and he rubbed again at his throbbing temples, before deciding to just get himself that coffee while he did a few quick google searches on possible plans that Jesse would like.

If Amy was going to see whatever he came up with, he would actually have to come up with something good.

He felt ridiculous, but even so, he never gave less than one-hundred-percent to any given project, and this was just another.

First though- coffee.

* * *

><p>"We're at a museum…"<p>

"I told you." Jesse's voice was smug.

Carson swallowed.

Crap.

This was actually good. Really good.

Fucking great.

Hopefully the surprise he'd concocted himself would make the gap a little smaller. It wasn't exactly a museum trip, but for him it was a pretty big gesture and he'd put a good amount of thought into it

Carson climbed from the car, looking up at the building. He'd been to the J. Paul Getty museum once before on a field trip and loved it, but hadn't gone back since.

He was always so busy…

Still, he kept up with news enough to know some of the newest temporary exhibits and fuck but Jesse had great timing.

"We'll have to go to the Migrations of the Mind exhibit and the Medieval Scriptorium for sure. I read about them in the paper, and have them included in one of my columns of exhibits to examine. They're also impermanent, of course, which means they're top priority."

"We've got time," Jesse grinned at him.

"Not really," Carson said briskly, taking Jesse's hand as he walked. "Not if we're catching the movie."

"What movie?" Jesse was looking sideways at him again, disbelief in his eyes.

Carson smirked.

"Oh, by the way, we have tickets to a seven o'clock showing of Tangled, that new Disney piece of crap you've been going on about. I was planning on giving you the 'you owe me' speech, but this makes up for the sure agony at least a little bit."

"You," Jesse announced, "are totally going to regret saying that later, and I don't even care."

"Yeah, well. I'm just giving myself more material for the paper, really."

Jesse nodded, eyes gleaming.

"The paper. Yeah, of course. That reminds me…"

"Oh no."

"_Literate and Stylish_."

Carson groaned.

"I'm regretting it already."

"_Kissable and quiet_," Jesse sang back. "Carson! It's one of our songs!"

Carson shut him up with a hard kiss, then shook his head and rolled his eyes and lead the way to the museum, pretending to ignore Jesse's continuing singing of "their soundtrack" all the way there.

* * *

><p><em>AN- _

_Deepest apologies for the wait, darlings, but here's hoping the plethora of fluff helps to soothe the wound. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? Either way, just wanted to quickly answer a question from one of our amazing reviewers (WE LOVE YOU ALL) and say that Malerie's role gets bigger later, but a lot of stuff changes between Carson's junior year (which is this one) and his senior. But events are going to happen to make that friendship culminate and they are quite down the line. _

_Alright. I [Sage] want to get this up ASAP, so I'll quit going on now and just say a huge thank you to all of you fantastic, perfect reviewers. You make our world go round and our Jesse go up. Don't worry- you'll get that last part eventually. ;) In the meantime, we hope you enjoyed this installment of In An Instant and that we'll see you again soon! What did you think of this chapter? Who wins biggest jerk, Andrew or Jesse? Or maybe Carson or Tyson? What was salty? What was sweet? What had a lemony tang that reminded you of home?  
><em>

_All our love (and more),  
><em>

_Dapper and Sage.  
><em>


	11. Chapter 11 Semantics of Ascent

**In An Instant  
><strong>

Chapter 11: Semantics of Ascent

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

**WORD COUNT: 3801**

* * *

><p>"Carson, the fork is supposed to go in your mouth."<p>

Carson bit back the acerbic retort on the tip of his tongue, settling for a firmly placed glower, and continued to press the remaining noodles in his bowl towards the center under his mom's narrow gaze.

"I made this macaroni for you to eat. Not to play with."

At this, Carson let the spoon fall and clatter against the rim of the dish, raising an eyebrow at his mom.

"It doesn't exactly look edible. In fact, I'd say it's probably a lot healthier for me to just continue swirling it around. I want to check for cockroaches first."

"I made dinner for us to eat together," Sheryl Phillips retorted, with only the frays of a snap in her voice somehow. The tone hardened, though. "Now, eat."

Carson rolled his eyes.

"I did. And then you took it upon yourself to put more in my bowl."

"You're a growing boy," she tossed back. "Eat."

And then, as if he needed to have an example, she made a point of swallowing a forkful.

A small wince passed her features, mostly hidden, but Carson spotted it and smirked.

"You don't even like it. Mom, it's burnt. It's not a big deal."

She scowled at him.

"It's not burnt, Carson. It's just a different type of noodle."

"A black-spotted one? Exotic."

She gave him a look.

"Eat, Carson."

Carson eyed the noodles, then his mom, face twisting into a grimace.

"I don't get why we have to do this anyway," he fronted begrudgingly instead of following the irritated instruction. "Since when do either of us need to fulfill some stupid traditional household staple like sit-down dinners? We're both a little too busy and, I don't know, real, for this bullshit, aren't we?"

"Language," she commented and he snorted a bit, shooting her a look of disbelief.

"Since when? You and dad both used to use me saying fuck and bitch as entertainment for you and all your drunk friends when I was maybe two."

"Yeah, well, things have changed," she snapped back. "And maybe traditional things aren't so bad. I think we could use a bit of normalcy around here these days."

Carson paused, filling up his fork with black and orange noodles as his brow slowly furrowed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, maybe I want to have a connection with my son, is that so strange?" she asked irritably, pushing back a strand of hair and letting her own fork fall. "I recently was made to really take a look at our relationship and Carson, I'll be honest, I didn't like what I saw."

He dumped the noodles on his fork and started gathering them anew, his fingers wrapping a little tighter around the metal as he did so.

"Oh yeah? And what was the impetus for that?"

"You know," she said shortly.

"Did you see a vision at the bottom of a wine bottle?" Carson asked the noodles snidely.

"No, I had to walk in on my supposedly straight son with his boyfriend."

Carson rolled his eyes.

"I thought you didn't care. Don't be melodramatic about it. This isn't the Days of Our Children or All my Lives or whatever those awful soap things you watch are called."

* * *

><p>"-And then she just told me that it was Days of Our <em>Lives<em> that she watched and that she'd stopped watching All my _Children_ two years ago and that if I was going to keep having that type of attitude I could go to my room with the macaroni, but she'd see me tonight same place, same time, and the food would be even more burned than it was last night," Carson finished his story with a swig of coffee and a shake of his head. "Which is why I'll probably be given food with poison tomorrow if I skip out on tonight."

"Your mom watches DooL?"

Carson's eyebrow's scrunched together and down, his nostrils flaring.

"What the ever living fuck is DooL?"

"Days of our Lives," Jesse explained, giving him a look of horror. "Without Days of Our Lives, I wouldn't have fully realized my ambitions to become an actor. They change lives with the days of their lives."

"…Please tell me that's not the most important thing you gleaned from that."

Jesse sighed, shaking his head.

"It's so sad when the little people can't recognize amazing things right in front of them."

Carson let out an amused puff of air that became a yawn.

"The little people? I'm taller than you. And I do about three-quarters of your homework. And my taste is far better. You have a fansite dedicated to Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan."

"Don't insult them. They're just misunderstood."

"Jesse, did you at least hear the swishing sound of the point flying way over your head?"

"What was that about giving head?"

Carson drew up an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Just that on the path you're on it's probably something you're only going to experience through a computer screen."

Jesse tilted his head.

"You finally set up the web-cam I gave you then?"

"Jess, it is far too early for this. Bottom line. Get to it."

Jesse sighed.

"Fine. You just suck the fun out of everything."

But he reached across the table as he said it, and seized Carson's hand in his, tracing the contours of his fingertips.

"I have an idea. But I don't think you'll like it."

"I never do, but since when does that stop you from sharing?" Carson asked in turn, taking another long drink. "What is it?"

"Invite me over for dinner."

"You were right, and no."

"Come on," Jesse whined instantly. "It's perfect! We can all bond!"

"I'm going to be tortured enough already with the food, and my mom's going to be being even more passive aggressive than usual."

"Unless Jesse is there to charm her socks off."

"Third person speech isn't helping your case."

"Carson, your mom and I have common interests."

"If you try and use that as grounds to attempt seducing my mom-"

"I'm not that perverted!"

Carson looked at him incredulously, though the effect was made much less impressive by the massive yawn that once more unhinged his jaw, and thus, by default, the expression.

"Yes, you are! I wouldn't put it past you at all, actually. …In fact, didn't you say your last girlfriend you were also sleeping with her mom?"

"There was time between the two and I never actually got Rachel to have sex with me," Jesse defended himself.

Carson eyed him over the rim of his coffee with a very obvious message of _'oh please'_.

"It's a good idea," Jesse reiterated stubbornly. "I haven't seen her since her last walk-in. Why is it that every time I get you to relax someone has to interrupt?"

"It's called irony," Carson informed him blandly. "Just when you think it's not going to happen-"

"Whoop, there it is," Jesse finished for him with a smirk, licking his lips. Carson ignored the gesture in favor of his coffee.

"…Sure. We can go with that. Either way, it's a bad idea, not a good one."

Jesse squeezed his hand.

"You're just afraid of being dramatic where it's obviously needed. Carson, I'm an actor. I know how the story is supposed to go, and if I don't come over it would leave the story at an impasse."

Carson stared at him.

"You just not only said the word impasse, but also used it correctly..."

Jesse gave a smug smile.

"I take my craft serious, yo."

"And that ruined it," Carson said instantly, rolling his eyes and hiding a pulling of amusement at the lower corner of his lip. "Alright, fine. But only because I'd rather get this over with now than deal with you going on about it for the next week until I give in and it happens anyway."

Jesse grinned.

"You won't regret this."

"Can I get that oath on paper with a contract and a notary?"

Jesse's eyes gleamed.

"You're so cute when you're being an asshole."

Carson frowned.

"I'm not even remotely cute. That is an adjective that needs to be kept far away from me. Even further than your stupid terms of endearment."

"Excellent movie. We should watch it."

"We should finish up, actually. Have to get to school, remember?" Carson reminded him abruptly, pulling a binder off the empty chair next to him. "And have to get more coffee."

Jesse grinned, largely ignoring all but the last bit.

"That works! I'll go talk to Karen about getting more."

"Do I even want to know when you got on a first name basis with the barista?" Carson asked vaguely, his attention now wholly on the papers in front of him and his dwindling caffeine supply.

"Since she congratulated me on tapping that."

"…I'm going to assume you're paraphrasing."

"Nope," Jesse replied, grabbing Carson's empty cup and smirking. "Just quoting what I'm sure she was thinking instead of what she said. I'll be right back."

Carson glanced up from the binder to watch a moment as Jesse moved to throw away their empty cups and then go to the counter and chat up the barista, who glanced over Jesse's shoulder and caught his eye with a nervous smile. Carson looked away. No. He didn't want to know.

He double-checked the alarm on his phone reluctantly, then; he didn't want to leave, but school would not be denied.

"More coffee, sweetcheeks?"

Carson scowled deeply at that, a great sigh escaping him, even as his hand darted out to seize the cup.

"Jesse, we've talked about this."

Jesse shrugged, dropping back into the seat across from him.

"When it's this early in the morning, it's this or the grammar- you choose which goes, but you can't have your cake and eat it too." Then: "Unless I'm popping out of it. 'Cause then you can do pretty much anything you want, as long as we keep the frosting involved."

Carson dropped the binder in front of him, face stern, but eyes soft even as they went rolling.

"Jess, I-"

A beeping cut him off, and Carson shot the source a sharp look, then turned back to Jesse, expression bordering beleaguered.

"Jesse, I've got to start heading for school. Your work's all in there, okay? Get yourself another coffee on me, and I'll see you tonight I guess, alright?"

Jesse paused then nodded, providing Carson with a classic smarm-filled smile.

"You bet your sweet ass, Casper. Go get 'em."

Carson ignored rebuke in favor of a quick-as-a-blink hug, pressing a few bills into Jesse's hand, then pulled away, grabbing up the binder from the table and pushing it against Jesse's free hand.

"Don't forget to go through that. Bye."

And then he was gone.

Jesse waggled eyebrows at the door as it closed, then held up the binder before himself and gave it a wary once-over.

"For Carson," he told it.

Then, Jesse fell back into his chair, sipped once more at his coffee, and flipped into the school-work, beginning dutifully to read.

* * *

><p>"Carson, you've cracked. It's official."<p>

It was Malerie who spoke, thumping down next to him at lunch, and giving him her best shit-eating grin.

Carson looked at her, disconcerted, then back to his book and then, again, back to her, fingers rising to scratch at his temple.

"I thought you were living in Kansas now… When did you get back and why exactly am I cracked?"

"Oh I was, but I couldn't wait to come back-"

"Why?" Carson grumbled, but she ignored him, plowing right on.

"My aunt died, you know, so we didn't need to take care of her anymore, obviously. So, we got to come back! And, I can just tell. It's like radiating from you. And also, I ran into Miss President. She gave me the down lo'."

"Uh-huh," Carson nodded hesitantly. "You've been away for a while, but you should know better than to trust Chlamydia Claire."

"She also said you're gay now. Does that mean I get to have a gay best friend? Chlamydia Claire- I like that!"

Carson stared at her for a long moment, then snorted and smiled despite himself.

"It's fitting, isn't it? I'm not gay. I do have a… person, though."

"A guy person," Malerie told him more than asked, her grin knowing and conspiratorial.

"…Maybe. Why are you sitting with me, Malerie? Don't you have other people to- I don't know- catch up with or something?"

Malerie immediately beamed and stood herself up, smiling.

"I did totes promise Ms. Crail and Ms. Tetter I'd have lunch with them and tell them about the new books I'm writing. You always look out for me, Carson. I'll see you in the newspaper room, right?"

She didn't wait for him to respond before she disappeared, leaving an utterly bemused Carson staring after her.

That had been oddly easy and not unpleasant. God, Jesse was making him soft as a kitten.

A kitten- Carson groaned inwardly. He'd just made a cat reference. He clearly needed coffee. And maybe a good smack to the head.

Another shadow fell over his book, and Carson felt a hand grip his shoulder, its owner leaning forward so their lips were at his ear and their hair was falling like a curtain around their shoulder, obscuring both of their faces from view.

He didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"Piss off, Claire."

He'd absolutely looked a gift horse in the mouth before with Malerie, hadn't he? Oh, but this was turning out to be a hell of a day.

"Watch your back, Carson. I'd hate to see it get stabbed."

"Not like it hasn't happened before," Carson murmured back.

"What do you want?"

"Someone just told me that they were sorry to hear about my illness. And then clapped at me. You wouldn't happen to know what that's about, would you?"

Carson smirked.

"Oh yeah, I heard that too. Sounds like you hit a new low on the stupid scale. Really, Claire, with how much you get around, I'd think protection would be a priority for you- hate to see your reputation even more in the trash."

"You are so fired," Claire huffed in his ear. "Just wait."

And then, her hair swished back and she too was gone.

Carson grinned to himself, head shaking.

Chlamydia Claire… that _had_ been a good one.

Ellen preferred him, so he wasn't scared. But he'd probably want to pull some overtime anyway, just to really secure things on that front. Still, Carson considered, that had been utterly worth it.

Hopefully, that would be the last of the drama for today; after all, he'd need his sanity preserved to some greater or lesser extent so that he could survive tonight.

Carson stifled a yawn in his hand, shook his head once more, smile still on his lips, and finally returned to his book and his peace until the bell rang.

* * *

><p>Roses were invading his mouth and nose before he'd even fully opened the door.<p>

Carson spit them out with a hasty step back, and fixed Jesse with a glare as the other stepped in, an only slightly malicious smile on his lips.

"I thought your mom might enjoy a little dazzling, seeing as you never let me."

"I thought you'd promised not to try to seduce my mom," Carson hissed back, disgruntled.

Jesse tapped him on the nose, and Carson jumped back once more, gaze narrowing.

"What was that?"

"You're adorable when you're jealous! You're reminding me almost of Seth right now."

Carson pointed a finger at him, mouth open ready to snap, when:

"Oh, look at the dashing Curly-Q, ready to save the dinner. I'd like to say I'm happy you're here, but- what's with the roses? Carson hates roses."

"Oh I know," Jesse sighed out, looking positively glum for a moment, before picking back up and bouncing toward her. "These are for you."

Sheryl looked distrustfully at him for a long moment, then slowly took the offered bouquet and proceeded to give it the same suspicious once-over.

Jesse slid his arm through hers, while Carson watched mortified, and pecked her on the cheek.

"You look just like Carson when you do that, Ms. Phillips. I hope your cooking skill was as genetic as the paranoia, because it smells amazing in here."

She withdrew her arm from his, but seemed almost pleased anyway.

"Finally someone who's not obsessed with complaining. Now, that is a habit he got from his father. Come in, sit down, let me get these on water."

"The sooner the better, though there's a bottle of wine I hid in the middle there and you'll want to pull that out first." Jesse informed her, walking right into the kitchen, Carson trailing him with his brows completely scrunched together.

"I've heard Carson's dad was a real dickhead, anyway. Must have been to complain about you or your food."

"Jesse," Carson groaned, taking his own seat and immediately putting his face in one hand while the other reached to try and pinch Jesse hard on the arm.

"Oh he was the worst," Sheryl Phillips replied, her tone growing impossibly more cheery. "I have some wonderful horror stories."

"That, some DooL gossip, and maybe some wine if that would be okay, and this may be the best hump day I've had in a while."

Carson's mom laughed loudly, looking thrilled, and Carson threw her a look of skepticism and then Jesse one of frustration. Neither reacted.

"I expect that will change once you an my boy start going at it," she said, and there was almost challenge in her voice.

"It definitely will," Jesse told her nonchalantly.

Carson coughed hard into his glass of water, spluttering.

"Honey, don't choke," his mom told him. "It'll make your gag reflex look weak in front of your boyfriend. Maybe you can convince him to drink, Jesse. I really think he could use it. When I was his age, I was going on two dates a week and had managed to become a local legend of beer pong. Let alone when I was yours, Jesse."

"I'm working on it, Sheryl. Trust me."

Carson reddened, gritting his teeth around a bite of too-dry brisket.

It was going to be a hell of a night. Or a night of hell. Carson didn't care to find out which applied, but he was sure going to.

He also may just have to take them up on that wine, or at least have another cup of coffee.

* * *

><p>"Come back any time," Sheryl Phillips was calling out the door. "But remember, wine before roses. Or even beer!"<p>

Carson was washing dishes while they said goodbye, trying still to figure out how the hell any of them had gotten from point A to point B. It didn't help that he'd been tag-teamed into trying wine- which he did not enjoy. The taste of it and Jesse's tongue were still in his mouth, though, and it only served to irritate him more that even if the taste was not necessarily pleasant, the feeling was.

The night had been a bitch, but…

"I like that boy," his mom pronounced, coming into the kitchen. "He might be too cool for you, Carson."

"Gee, thanks mom."

"Oh, don't talk to me like that," she retorted, some of the enthusiasm fading from her voice though not all.

"I meant what I said, you know? He's welcome here anytime. In fact," she paused then sighed. "If you have him come over for dinner like this, even just once a month, I'll let you off the hook on the meals together thing."

Carson frowned into the soapy water, not turning to face her.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah… You were right. That crap's just not for us."

Carson dunked a plate below the water level, holding it down while the words sat between them, then sighed.

"Thanks. I guess."

"Don't thank me. Thank that Jesse. He's a fun one. Reminds me of me when I was younger."

Carson coughed, head shaking.

"No. Nope. Don't do that- I will not have you put that Freudian bs in my head, mom. He was discredited. Go watch your soap. Fucking hell."

His mom laughed all the way to the living room, slinging with her a bottle of wine, and, despite himself as ever, Carson laughed too, though he also scrubbed the soap on the pot in front of him a bit harder.

Families were fucking weird.

But, Carson allowed, even if he would usually be perfectly willing to trade his, and hell, even if he still was, they made for some fucking great anecdotes and articles.

Small wonder he'd ended up a story man.

If he could just get a nice grip on them, maybe his family (and maybe his Jesse) could be the keys to his success in the newspaper world.

"Bring me a beer when you're done," his mom screamed over the sounds of ominous music coming from the tv.

Carson shook his head, calling back, exasperated, "Whatever, but you're not getting me to give you any aspirin in the morning."

They could potentially be great keys to his success as a journalist… if they didn't kill him or his sanity first.


	12. Chapter 12 The Art and Consequences

**In An Instant**

Chapter 12: The Art and Consequences of Letting Go

**GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?**

**MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!**

**WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.**

**PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.**

**WORD COUNT: 5768**

* * *

><p>"Carson, babe, have you ever considered that you work too hard?"<p>

"Jesse, is that on the list of acceptable endearment terms I gave you?"

"No. All that paper said was 'Carson'."

"Exactly. There was a reason for that."

Jesse rolled onto his side and stared at Carson's back.

"I've been thinking…"

"Uh-oh," Carson sighed, pushing away from the desk. "What now?"

"What do you call me to your friends?"

"An idiot," Carson said point blank before rolling his eyes and standing quickly, arching his back and stretching his arms.

"Jesse, you know I have no friends, at least that aren't family in some way, shape, or form. And you already introduced yourself to all of them a long time ago, if you forgot. Over facebook. By claiming to be fucking me. They tend to refer to you as whatever expletive feels right in the moment. Usually with Andrew it's along the lines of curly-haired-motherfucker. Why?"

"But I'm the curly-haired-motherfucker that you also call your boyfriend, right?"

Carson snorted.

"Did those words actually just leave your mouth?"

Jesse narrowed his eyes haughtily.

"Of course they did, Casper. It's existentially romantic."

"Yeah…not really using existentially right, sweetheart."

"I'm giving you the side-eye right now so hard. And, if you didn't know the side-eye is-"

Carson groaned.

"Jesse, I know I'm not the most familiar with current slang, but I do know basics. Is it your time of the month right now or something?"

Jesse scowled.

"I'm horny and sex-deprived, and I like romantic things, so I want my boyfriend to say for once that he actually is my boyfriend, instead of treating a golden nugget like me like a dirty little secret. I may be willing to get dirty, but the rest of that should never apply to Jesse St. James."

Carson watched him a moment, expression inscrutable, then moved to sit beside Jesse on the bed.

"I don't like the word boyfriend," he said after a moment. "It feels strange. You know better than anyone that this is all new to me. But, from my research, everyone says compromise is the foundation of any relationship. So… I've called you my boyfriend in my head a few times. I'll just start saying it out loud now. Better?"

Jesse sighed dramatically, and extended a hand towards Carson, who watched it warily for a long moment. Then, belatedly:

"Oh. You wanted me to hold it?"

Jesse's lips quirked in amusement, dark eyes glinting as Carson's hand inched forward, the other boy's forehead wrinkling, and, finally, the fingers connected and intertwined.

Jesse looked at their locked hands and then at Carson, and then leaned forward to breathe hotly over their fingers, watching with satisfaction as Carson's flesh tensed, a small shiver darting through the limb, fingers twitching against Jesse's palm.

"I think you're giving me a teacher fetish," he observed, head cocking slightly. Carson coughed.

"Is this really all you wanted?"

"Sex would be nice too."

"Jesse…"

"Yes?"

"No. …What is that look for?"

Jesse turned away dramatically, pulling his hand from Carson's.

"You need to use a pet name for me."

"This may be the most ridiculous and inane conversation we've ever had," Carson informed Jesse, annoyance audible in his ringing voice. "Jesse St. James, we do not live in a chick flick, no matter how much you want to believe we do."

"I'm pretty sure this is really a revamped version of Ten Things I Hate About You," Jesse replied confidently. "I'm sure everyone in the theater is desperate for us to just get it on already."

"That would only be because people these days are almost as sex-crazed as dolphins are."

Jesse frowned at him.

"Since when are cute sea creatures sex-crazed?"

Carson snorted, hand moving slowly forward to reclaim its place in Jesse's.

"Sweetheart, they've always been that way. They'll try having sex with just about everything."

Jesse smirked.

"Only you could make the word sweetheart sound identical to the word idiot. And good for them! At least we know the dolphins are getting some then. Someone should be."

"Jesse, you're like the real life Anne Shirley. Has anyone ever told you that? Not having sex for…how long has it been since you last had sex?"

Jesse pulled a face.

"That sounds a lot like a trap."

"And that sounds like a pile of crap."

Jesse beamed at him.

"Okay, I have to give you some style points for the rhyming there. That was pretty good. And I have the perfect reward in mind…"

Carson eyed him, expression deadpan.

"No sex. I am not a whore. And I don't want my boyfriend to be one either. Got it?"

"It's who I am," Jesse whined. "It's in my blood."

"No, it's in your brain. In the hormones released. And the only place blood has in any of this is where it keeps going."

Jesse smirked slightly, tugging at Carson's hand abruptly, so that the other fell on his side, and then wrapped himself around him, angling a thrust at his boyfriend's thigh.

"You mean here?"

Carson glowered at him, disentangling himself.

"Did I ask for a demonstration?"

"It was my brain," Jesse said, grinning, and Carson sighed, but didn't move from his side, in fact wriggling just ever so slightly closer.

Their shoulders and thighs were warm against each other, and hands were still held tight. Carson stared at their fingers together for a moment, then sighed again.

"You're destroying my IQ, sweetheart," he said glumly, though with an undertone of teasing. "I always thought I was so much smarter than all of this. And I didn't need or want any of it."

"Oh well," Jesse replied lightly, pulling Carson ever so slightly closer, and smiling when Carson didn't fight it, but moved himself closer as well. "You could stand to lose a few of those babe. You'll still be smarter than four-fifths of the Earth's population, even if you lose a hundred."

Carson laughed full out, turning so that he was pressed fully against Jesse's side, smothering the sounds of his ringing pleasure into his boyfriend's chest.

"You either think exceptionally highly of me, or alarmingly little of the rest of the world, 'babe'. I'm not really sure which option I prefer."

"It's starting to be both," Jesse said truthfully. "Which reminds me. Who else's work are you doing now?"

Carson stiffened, then shrugged into Jesse's side, his fingers tightening their coil around Jesse's own.

"I don't know what you mean."

Jesse raised an eyebrow at him and Carson scowled.

"Oh, don't give me that look, St. James."

"And don't give me that bullshit, Phillips," Jesse retorted nonchalantly. "I happen to be able to read you pretty well by now, you know? Whose is it?"

Carson took in Jesse's words a moment, then, slowly, moved forward, up the bed, and even closer to Jesse, who watched him with bemusement but interest.

"Jesse… I don't know what difference it makes, but my load at school just got a bit bigger, okay? That's all. I'm in a bunch of AP classes. It happens. I'll admit though…Seeing you like this is a little…hot, to me."

Jesse laughed.

"Me asking about you is a turn on now?"

"Maybe," Carson said, undaunted, legs abruptly going on either side of Jesse, straddling him firmly. Beneath him, Jesse pulled himself up as best he could. "What do you think?"

And Carson ground down just as firmly as he'd straddled his boyfriend, an unmistakable hardness gaining Jesse's attention.

"This is new…" Jesse murmured, eyes on his boyfriend's, battling between his lust and the complete understanding that this was Carson's method of diverting him.

Lust just so happened to be winning.

"But new things are good."

A little growl escaped Jesse's throat before he could stop it, and he felt the rest of the blood fueling his brain finish rushing southward.

What the hell did diversion matter?

"Very good. Very, very good," he replied throatily.

Carson grinned, and the satisfaction and clear pride on his face was just enough to wipe away the last traces of Jesse's concern.

Carson leaned forward over him, warm, moist breath ghosting over Jesse's throat, which he then studiously pressed his lips against, biting lightly, and sucking determinedly.

The faint pain only made it all the more erotic, and Jesse's heart beat wildly as he watched, enamored with the sight, and the obscene sounds forthcoming.

If he wasn't such a sex master, he was pretty sure he'd have already come on that alone.

The wet sounds of Carson's actions washed over him, and he ground up, and Carson met this as well, maintaining an air of study that made Jesse want to laugh, cry, and kiss Carson until they melted into one another and became one.

Although that would make sexing each other up a little difficult.

Which would suck, because damn his boyfriend just seemed to get hotter, even if it was in the absolute strangest ways possible.

Carson's every move and action right now was so obviously thought through and researched, and it was that that Jesse found turning himself on the most. Carson had clearly had this on his mind more than he wanted to admit, and was more interested than he showed. There was so much that showed on Carson's expressive face, and so many ways his eyes and his mouth (definitely, his mouth) worked, but there was even more beneath, locked away.

Jesse's free hand, because for reasons he was unsure of the pair of them were still clinging hands, clenching twined fingers like copulation itself, their palms writhing against one another in time with their heated movement, in a steady, unstoppable magnetization, seized Carson's hip then back then hip again, found where Carson's shirt had risen or his jeans had fallen or _something_, and smoothed over the bare skin, tantalizing and heated, so fucking heated, and grasped as firmly at the flesh as he had his boyfriend's hand, moving over it with want and need and some indecipherable feeling that some line had already been crossed, so there were no fucks left to give, and if no "no" was said, then he'd be going as far as he could possibly get.

Carson grunted softly as he worked, and pressed into Jesse's hand, the sensations overwhelming him, his vision growing blurry around the edges even as every one of his senses seemed sharpened to the max, the volume on the world turned all the way up.

"Carson."

And, without question, because at a time like this questions always could be saved for later, Carson automatically ground himself down hard, their heartbeats throbbing against one another, and moved up abruptly, a popping cracking into the air as he released his suction on Jesse's throat and went instead for his mouth, diving in with heaving breath and inhibitions caught still processing the flow of events from the first moment his teeth sank to nibble at a sharp juncture in his boyfriend's throat, baser instincts taking control in their stead for what may well have been the first true time in Carson's life.

Thought was nearly impossible, other than the burning, throbbing note of closerclosercloser.

And closer they got, as close as they could, then closer still.

Heat and musk clung to every particle of air in the small room. A pulsating need, burning itch drove up Carson's spine, trembled through his arms and fingers and toes and eyes, shuddered out in clenching, locking limbs, and jerking, desperate need for whatever semblance of more there was, even if it was past what some part of his mind, lost as it was, still recognized as too much.

He didn't care about that right now. All that mattered was _more_…

His free hand moved of its own accord to get as much of that more he wantedneeded so much, and wormed its way towards closer, sliding over the burning skin of Jesse's abdomen beneath his shirt, then going back down to pull at the shirt's hem, murmuring an urging of _"off"_ onto Jesse's tongue before sucking the word away once more.

But Jesse got the message and together they moved Jesse's shirt up and off, Carson shaking and practically growling with want, Jesse moaning and licking his lips every five or so seconds.

Carson's mind blurred again as his own shirt came off, and their naked chests pressed tight against one another as they returned to kissing, desperately invading one another's mouths, memorizing, mapping, as if preparing a course for some future venture.

Jesse moved to lick at a tender spot just behind Carson's ear that made him mewl sharply, and then another at the crook of his knee that made his entire body contact when Jesse rubbed a bent finger behind it as he pulled Carson further in. And Carson found that, rather predictably for a vocalist, Jesse's throat was one big hot spot, but also, a little less predictably, Carson's blunt nails against the middle of his back made stars absolutely explode behind his eyelids.

Jesse mumbled something about showing him a true performance and they adjusted together, Carson barely aware by this point, until he was dragged back by the indelible, mind-blowing sensation of smothering wetness and soft nibbling at one of his nipples, while their hands slipped and slid and made love between the sheets, and Jesse's free hand clenched and twisted around Carson's side, making the boy seize up and moan tautly into the air, red as an apple, ripe for the taking.

It was at this juncture in time, Jesse's teeth and tongue swirling about a nipple, free fingers pinching just below Carson's ribs, scratching ever so slightly, that a shout sprouted and spread through the room, and the boys froze, or at least Carson did, since Jesse wasn't stopping for anything right now. Carson's breath hitched, his limbs locked, his eyes burst open (though he didn't even remember when it was they had closed, since he was sure, so sure that he had seen everything, every minute, of this tryst with Jesse. How could he not have?). Jesse ground up, groaning, the words "close" and "come on" and a whine, a wanton whimper that resounded in Carson's ears and sounded suspiciously like his name.

"Fuck no, fuck no, fuck no. What the hell is going on here?"

"Andrew, calm down. Let's go!"

Amy's voice was high and panicked. Andrew's angry and stricken.

Carson lurched off of his boyfriend, heartbeat somehow quickening even more, reaching a pace so fast he was sure it would burst from his chest any second.

He wasn't sure he would mind.

God, how stupid was he?

The hard sound of flesh hitting flesh felt like a hit to Carson himself, and he flinched from it, wincing, sickness rising, before snapping up, because the hit wasn't to himself but to his boyfriend, and goddammit, he loved Andrew but he was a big boy and could make his own decisions, and fuck, but he'd been kind of in the middle of something, and had his cousins completely forgotten what phones were or something?

Carson stood sharply, and went to his cousin, all his rage and shame and confusion going into the punch he delivered to his cousin's cheek, and the man stared at him in shock for all of a second before returning at full force, and Carson took the hit hard to his bare stomach, breath whooshing out, gasping at the sharp pain.

He'd not taken into account the very clear differences in strength between himself and Andrew, who had had an addiction to weight training for a while, in an effort to prove himself worthy of a fraternity he later nearly took over before abandoning completely.

Carson hit the ground hard, and he heard a high-pitched sound of furious rebuke before a clear, weighty smack jolted the thick, muggy, sex-filled air, and Carson found his heavily-lidded eyes on Amy, who was looking about them with an air of absolute rage, but, even more so, disappointment. And simmering just below, to Carson's ever present horror, disgust.

Fuck it all.

What had he done? What had he been willing to do?

Was he honestly that desperate, that pathetic, that idiotic…

"That human. Carson, you're human, that's fine. We were just shocked. Come on, calm down."

Fingers he'd lost came back to him, and the roaring of self-recrimination in Carson's ears died down just a little.

There. That. That was something in all of this that was…revitalizing, reaffirming. Carson may have been being a fucking moron, but damn if he hadn't felt closer to Jesse in those moments than he'd felt to anyone in probably forever.

Of course, if anything, that surely made him all the more idiotic.

"Carson, I'm sorry, man. I don't know what came over me, I just…"

Even stranger, the violence had felt like even more release of something Carson hadn't even known he'd been holding, and the throbbing in his gut had become a warm sense of catharsis.

Carson didn't know what to think, and the perplexity terrified him. What was he now?

He'd engaged in sex-type activities with heat and enthusiasm, had lost and found himself in things he liked so often to deride as pointless and made purely for the brainless. And then he'd fallen into violence, and had…not enjoyed it. But felt better for it. For so long, Carson had craved, despite his denial of such things, to be at least a little normal, a little human, but he'd made his differences his talisman against the world so that he could survive. And now, when he was maybe not so different in these ways after all, it left him feeling hollowed out and humiliated, and hating himself for the knowledge that he'd do it again in a heartbeat, because there was something there he'd never conceived of before, never had the chance to, and, despite his desperation not to, Carson found himself loving that.

"I am not a kid," he said at last, enunciating the words carefully, blue eyes sweeping up to pierce Andrew through.

His cousin nodded.

"I'm sorry, C-man. I suck. I was just…I don't even know. I acted without thinking. I'll go now."

"I'm sorry, Carson," Amy said softly. "Can I talk to you a minute though? And then we'll get out of your hair I promise. We were only stopping by to say a quick surprise hi anyway, just because we were in the area."

Carson paused, then nodded, because really what was there to lose at this point?

Well, plenty, of course. There was always plenty.

But, if he were honest with himself, he was caught somewhere between resentful and grateful that he and Jesse had been interrupted, anyway. If things had gone any further, he might not have been able to forgive himself whatsoever, and maybe would have had to go throw himself off the nearest bridge.

He could give Amy a minute of his time in private.

Carson went to stand, but found the endeavor difficult, and looked at his and Jesse's hands, still insistently, stubbornly entwined, and a gentle smile took the grimace from his face and knocked it away into nothing.

"Are you going to let go or are you going to start coming with me literally everywhere?"

Jesse smirked at him, the cocky self-contentedness somehow exacerbated with the blossoming redness across the line of his jaw, right beside his ear. A beading of blood clung like a jewel to his lip.

"I really like that last idea. Where are we going next, babe? Cause I'm thinking shower."

Carson laughed, before remembering that he probably wasn't supposed to, but couldn't quite bring on the self-chastisement for that.

"I've got to talk to my cousin now, sweetheart," and, even as much as he was sure it should have, the term of endearment definitely didn't sound like the word idiot right there. "I think it's better we detach before our hands fuse together and they need to call a surgeon. You need your hands to perform don't you?"

"Sexually or…?"

Carson snorted, pulling his hand free more than a little reluctantly.

"You would. Okay, Ames, where to?"

Her brown eyes were soft and glittering.

Andrew's brows were low, his nose wrinkled and unsure.

"I'll be in the car," he informed them slowly, before turning tail and heading down the stairs.

Amy put a hand on Carson's back, which was good for her because much as he adored her he had a sudden aversion to the idea of anyone but Jesse holding his hand right this second, and the pair moved from Carson's room into the hall, then into his grandma's old room from before she'd been moved into the nursing home.

"Carson," she said softly as she closed the door behind them. "Please, first, give me a hug?"

Carson didn't even bother to hesitate in the manner he typically would, obediently wrapping his arms around his cousin, who inhaled quietly as he did.

"You're happy?" It was said as a question, but they both knew it was more of a statement.

Carson nodded against her hair anyway.

"I think I am. I know it's stupid, and you probably-"

"Carson, it's not stupid," Amy said heavily. "Getting mad at yourself for being happy for once, though, is. You're brilliant, Carson, and the king of logic, so use all that brilliance, please, and figure that out already. We love you, and we just care about you and want you safe and happy. That's all. It's simple really."

She looked him in the eyes now, very, very sternly.

"But pace yourself alright? And let yourself relax, just for a bit. You need that."

"I don't think I can do both."

"I think you can do just about anything, except for maybe take care of yourself properly, which is why it's so good we're all around, isn't it?"

Carson laughed a bit.

"Oh is that why? I was wondering why you guys were sticking around… Figured I had something to do with leaving food out. You know what they say… You're not going to cry are you, Ames?"

Amy grinned instead, though her eyes were, in fact, brimming.

"Sorry, girls' time, and I'm feeling even more sentimental than usual because of it. Go back to your boyfriend, and call me later, okay kid?"

"Not a kid," Carson made sure to remind her, and Amy's laugh bounced off the sun-spotted walls.

"No kidding! Fine, I'll see you later, my full-grown-man-cousin."

"See you," Carson said lowly, and she left him in the room.

Moments later, Jesse entered, grinning widely.

"Hey babe."

Carson smiled at him, against his will.

"Hey."

"What'd the cousin want? Details, right? I wouldn't be surprised. The two of us are so freaking hot, we'd make any girl's ovaries explode."

Carson rolled his eyes, going to the small bed still in the room and sinking down to the floor in front of it.

Jesse smirked slightly and swaggered over to the spot as cockily as he could, slipping down to join Carson in his position, automatically mirroring him in gesture, though not quite managing to expression.

After a minute of silence had come and gone, he prodded a finger into his boyfriend's arm.

"Carson, I know you have the ability to think forever, but I'm not really like that, so if you don't start talking I'll be forced to serenade you again. I'm think "Your Song" or "Elephant Love Medley", since I like to think of those as our songs. That and 'First Kiss'… and maybe 'Timberwolves' too. We have a relationship soundtrack already. Oh!"

Carson laughed loudly, and leaned down to lay his head on Jesse's shoulder. Jesse wrapped an arm around him.

"She told me I need to realize that people want me happy. Or some derivative of that. And that I need to let myself relax. Same stuff she's always saying."

"Sounds about right. Are we doing anything tomorrow?"

Carson shot Jesse a look.

"Jesse, school, remember?"

"Not really. I like to pretend it doesn't exist, actually. The only existing things for me are you, sex, and the stage. You know, it might be fun to combine all three. What do you say, babe?"

Carson buried his face in Jesse's shoulder, head shaking back and forth instantly.

"Not happening, sweetheart."

"Ever?"

"While I still have any semblance of sanity."

Jesse grinned and kissed the top of his head, making Carson release a soft groan.

"So, in maybe a month or so is what you're saying."

"I think it's time for us to get back to work," Carson retorted, moving up and attempting to keep his face hidden.

Jesse, though, still caught a flash of reddened skin, and smirked in accomplishment.

They'd be all right.

He stood with Carson and reached out expectantly, smirk softening ever so slightly into a smile when Carson's hand moved as well to meet his, the gesture one of pure nature and instinct. Their fingers wound together, palms kissing.

But there was one more thing.

Jesse stopped them by the door, and Carson turned to him with a frown, face only slightly tinted now.

"You okay?"

Jesse had to smile at that. Carson wasn't usually so open with his concern, maybe not even usually concerned at all in the first place. Clearly, their make-out session had had more than one good effect.

If anything it had to be at around ten.

"Carson, I've been thinking."

Carson's hand pulled free and went to his pocket, shoving deeply in.

"Here we go again," he snarked, and Jesse grinned again, because while he loved open-Carson, and adored the Carson that had writhed with him, feral and wanting, this Carson was the one that had first caught his interest, and, more than the rest, that would stay with him forever.

Jesse leaned against the wall and raised a brow at his boyfriend, who rolled his eyes and sighed.

"What is it, Jesse?"

"You work too hard."

"Really? This again?" Carson asked drolly. "I never took you as the type to only think of the same things over and over, unless it was yourself. Although, of course, Benjamin Franklin did say that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, and we both know that you could easily define insanity."

Jesse chuckled and pushed off from the wall, looping his arms around Carson, who stood stubbornly still, giving Jesse a dull look.

"Do you have another essay for me to write or something?"

"Actually, that was what I wanted to bring up. Our deal's off. I no longer require your assistance."

Carson's mouth fell open.

"Wait…what?"

Jesse sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically, then turned and strode quickly to the single bed next to the window, falling cat-like to the surface of the comforter and rolling his eyes once more when he realized Carson was still standing by the door, expression incredulous as he stared back at him.

"Well, are you coming?"

Carson scowled.

"I thought we were leaving actually. I need to get back to work remember? And undo all the crap I did for you since I've apparently been fired."

Jesse fell back abruptly, groaning.

"I thought I was the dramatic one of this relationship."

Carson sneered, then sighed.

"You are, Jesse. You're the dramatic one of every relationship."

Jesse grinned.

"I haven't told you about my ex much yet, have I?"

Carson shrugged.

"Let's go back to my room," he suggested, and Jesse moaned.

"You know, sex can happen pretty much anywhere. It's not necessary for us to be in your room, hot as it is."

"Not what I meant," Carson retorted. "My mom should be home soon, and this is my grandma's room from before we had to put her in the nursery home. I don't like being in here, and my mom doesn't like anyone being in here."

Jesse nodded, and stood in one swift movement from the bed.

"Let's go back to your room then."

The pair moved into the hall and then to Carson's room, Jesse smirking again as he caught sight again of the wall of bookshelves on the far side from the door, the only real "decoration", if one could call it that, in virtually the whole of the room, then went and flopped onto the bed, crooking a finger in his boyfriend's direction.

Carson laughed shortly and instead grabbed the limb and pulled Jesse back up.

"No, not involving the bed right now," he informed Jesse. "First, why am I not doing your work anymore? You know I'm fine with it, and we made this deal when we met. I gave you my word. And I happen to like doing it… I know I complain a lot, but getting to do college work is actually really great for me."

Jesse shook his head.

"You're doing someone else's work."

Carson glowered at him.

"Seriously? That's what this is about?"

"Whose is it?"

"I'm not doing this with you, Jesse," Carson replied stubbornly, and Jesse shrugged.

"You're the one who said nothing with the bed right now, and if we're not conducting any bedroom gymnastics to distract me then I've got to get my gold medal at something else, don't I? I'm not as dumb as you think I am, Carson."

"I don't think you're dumb, idiot," Carson muttered irritably.

Jesse smirked fondly at the comment, but said nothing, and Carson sighed.

"Didn't you want to practice performing some song or something?"

"I'll serenade you later," Jesse said seriously, and Carson gave another little choked laugh. "Carson, come on. Whose is it? Why are you doing their work? You think I don't know how these things work, babe? What do they have on you? Did they find out you're an actual human being or something?"

Carson scowled and Jesse traced stars in the alabaster points of the ceiling as he waited, until:

"It's just a little debt I'm working off from getting the fake IDs for the In An Instant shoot. It's not a big deal, Jesse, okay? So you can stop with the melodrama."

Jesse grinned.

"I can totally give them a musical beatdown if you want."

"Right, sorry. I forgot that you're melodrama itself… No musical beat-downs are happening, sweetheart. That's not how it works in real schools."

"Carmel was a real school," Jesse replied instantly, and Carson frowned.

"No, no. Your old school was only real on an existential level. In every other way, it might as well have been built of impenetrable cotton candy that you could also eat and lived at the bottom of the ocean, guarded by the Little Mermaid."

Jesse laughed loudly and kissed him quickly on the lips, before he could be stopped.

"I think some of my drama is rubbing off on you, babe. Either way, my decision's been made. I might still ask you for help sometimes, since you're brilliant and a genius, and I have to focus on my more creative ventures, still, but I'll do most of it myself."

And Carson couldn't exactly fight him on that, either, could he?

It was, after all, exactly what Jesse needed to do.

Instead, their palms kissed once more and, then, with a sound of exasperated release, Carson pressed him hard to the wall and they did, too.

* * *

><p><em>AN-_

_SOOOOOOO, long story short, I am so sorry for the wait that everyone's endured. For all my fanfictions actually. I've actually stopped really writing Jarson, because, well, I'm now writing JARON. That is, an entirely original version of this story with my own characters Jared (new Carson) and Cameron (new Jesse), as a television show. It's actually going quite well, and I'm incredibly excited about it, but it has meant that I have to put my all into that. _

_However, for the sake of the holidays, I completed chapter 11 and, well, to be honest, this one's been completed since nearly the very beginning. But yeah. I hope everyone's enjoyed their holidays. I'll be posting a few of the much-later-in-the-time-line installments of this that I've written (including Jarson's first time and the afterward of In An Instant, which I've also had complete for ages). _

_I love all of you and am so thankful for the support I've seen for this over so much time. I can only hope that that support can continue going forward. _

_Happy holidays all!_

_Love, _

_Ashley/LunalitSol/Sage_


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